


Meetings Over Dinner

by shallwethen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 43,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shallwethen/pseuds/shallwethen
Summary: Mycroft initially just wanted to keep on eye on Sherlock. Meetings over dinner soon became dates, and Mycroft Holmes found himself in love. It's hard for him to process, this new feeling, but eventually he knows he'll give in. It's only a matter of time.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Original Character, Mycroft Holmes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

As Sarah Garner left 221 Baker Street, she adjusted the worn leather bag over her shoulder. A car pulled beside her, and as she usually did when she received unwanted attention on her way to the university, she put her head down and hurried, surprised to hear a woman’s voice. On a normal day in a normal apartment, she never would have settled into the car, but something told her this would have to do with the detective within. No alarm went off in her head that she’d be injured. She rather expected this might be a test from the man upstairs. She’d seen bullet holes scattered through his apartment and door. Kidnapping her didn’t seem too out of character.

She followed the sharply dressed woman who had picked her up, watching as she texted. They wound their way through bland hallways, reaching an office at the end of a final hallway. She felt as though they were reaching the final round, turning into the door and standing before the desk. Her arms stayed crossed tightly against her chest, brow furrowed. In front of her stood a tall man who somehow managed to be more impeccable dressed than the woman who picked her up. Her hands smoothed over her pencil skirt, shifting under the weight of his gaze. 

“Ms. Garner, I presume?” he said simply, motioning for her to sit. She lifted a brow, staying standing and giving a curt nod instead. 

“Yes, I am,” she nodded curtly as her hands stayed settled on her hips. “I’m sorry, but given how I arrived here, I’m tempted to forego formality.”

“A fair judgement.” The man stood and she watched as he strode gracefully to pour himself a drink. “Would you care for one? It could help ease your nerves. And please, have a seat.”

“I don’t take drinks from strangers.” Despite her better judgement, she sat, watching him swirl the tumbler and take a sip. He tilted his head and his eyes narrowed. “Now, might I ask what has me here? I'm a student, I can’t see why--”

“You’re pursuing your PhD in literature. Your presentations at conferences last year focused on ‘oft-maligned genres,’ as you put it. Personally, I fail to see the appeal. Horror and comic books. Most leave those interests in their teen years.”

“Most fail to analyze them properly,” she bristled. “Not my primary research interest anyway. Again, I ask why I am here. And now, I ask how you know that.”

“Oh you’re no fun,” he said, leaning back as he returned to his seat. He moved his attention to his glass, swirling the liquid within. “Take a guess.”

“I’ve found myself drawing a blank. You’re not as menacing as you think you are. The more you talk, the less I fear for my safety.”

“Hmph, I suppose I can let the cat out of the bag. First and foremost, I’m Mycroft Holmes. Brother of Sherlock. I’m sure Mrs. Hudson introduced the both of you.”

“Are all of you so dramatic?”

“Excuse me?” he asked, setting his glass down. “How else was I supposed to speak to you?”

“Oh, now you’re the one being boring! You could befriend me. Call me. Email me. Your brother called you the government. Frankly, you do seem more well put together than your brother.”

“He’s experiencing a brief setback, yes. And that’s all you need to know about me. What I’m here to do is request you let me know if you hear of anything my brother is up to. I have my own means of keeping tabs on him, but I do suspect those walls are thin. Obviously, I will reimburse you.”

“And if I opt not to play along with you distorted family dynamic?” 

“I’ll simply make your life as difficult as I can. I have my ways of keeping tabs on you as well, my dear.”

“I opt out with a caveat,” Sarah offered, chin held high. “He seems a danger. I can tell he’s on something. I’ll report the gunshots and any fits I may witness to you. Other than that, it’s you communicating with your brother. On the phone or by dropping by. Not weird theatrics.”

“It’s better than nothing, I suppose,” he conceded. “We’ll revisit my offer later?”

“No, we won’t, Mycroft. I’ll be too busy with teaching and school to be your brother’s keeper. I can discuss him with you, on occasion. But I won’t be a paid snitch.”

“Well, would you concede to these discussions happening over dinners? If I won’t get my way, I’d at least like to be seen out with a beautiful woman as a sort of pity prize.”

“If you want to take me to dinner, it will have to be personal rather than business. That said, flattery won’t sway me any more than money will. Now please have that car take me to the university. I'm meant to be teaching a class soon.”

“Pity,” Mycroft replied, voice even as a ghost of a smile played on his lips. “You will be dropped at whatever building you need. I’ll be checking in with you soon enough.”

As the sleek black car made its way to her class, she found herself contemplating what she had gotten herself into. She lived in a flat below a man who she’d recently learned had faked his own death, come back to life years later, was probably hooked on something, and liked shooting the walls at random. And now she knew he had a brother who liked kidnapping her and offering her money to spy on him. Now, Sarah found herself glancing at each CCTV camera, each public phone, with distrust. And rightly so. Mycroft Holmes had expected her to take him up on his offer easily. John Watson had made him unsure, but Sarah was a student. She probably needed the money and hadn’t known Sherlock when he wasn’t high. Her refusal found him in his office, drink in hand as he watched her go into the lecture hall.


	2. Chapter 2

The following Saturday found Sarah settled at a picnic table with members of her cohort, a pint in hand. The group of women had needed a break to complain about their faculty and thesis hours and students, but as it tended to, they moved to gossip. The alcohol was starting to hit Sarah as she placed her hands face down on the table.

“No, no, the man living in my building is the worst.” They’d been working through their neighbors and roommates, and a snort escaped her as she thought of the chaos she’d moved into.

“Really? He beats out the nudist?” Michelle challenged. “Because the nudist has yet to understand I don’t want to see everything he’s got going on.”

“The guy in the other apartment? Strung out detective. Totally whacked. Shoots at the wall, living with another junkie, basically got a meth lab in there,” she said, arms waving as she emphasized each point. “No! That’s not the worst of it! His brother works for the government. Has me picked up and wants me to inform on his brother to him. It’s crazy.”

“His brother works for the government? Is he at least fit? If he’s going to kidnap you, he better be well fit.”

“He’s handsome. Distinguished,” she admitted bashfully. “But the whole kidnapping thing? Total red flag. He did offer to have our meetings over dinner though.”

“Dinner talk, then pillow talk!” Michelle finished her beer, waggling her brows at the blonde across from her as they readied to walk towards their apartments. “I say give him a dinner, Sarah. Good job, probably busy a lot. Balances out. Then he won’t have to kidnap you! Plus, you need to date outside the department. Justin has got his eyes on you.”

“Kidnapping implies she didn’t consent to getting in the car,” a voice behind them on the sidewalk remarked, and Sarah swung around with wide eyes. Her hands balled into fists at her side and if Mycroft were a different man, her readiness to fight as she stood, unsteady on her feet as a fawn, before him.

“Mycroft! Shit,” she managed. This was not how she wanted their meetings. She was tipsy enough it would be hard to keep up with him. Besides that, she had yet to decide how much she trusted him.

"Are you the brother?” Michelle laughed, elbowing Sarah lightly in the ribs. “I suppose I’ll catch a cab. Have fun with Mr. Government.”

“Michelle! Don’t leave me. He’ll kidnap me again.”

“I wouldn’t stoop so low, dear. I told you these meetings would happen. I was just going to have our first little discussion over chips.” Realistically, he had expected to take her to a nice dinner, somewhere that he could show off her company, even if it was part of a deal. She was in no state to be taken anywhere that didn’t have fried food.

“Fine,” she conceded. “Take me to the chip shop.” 

“Gladly.” It took restraint not to place his hand on her back, but when she stumbled, he told himself he was only trying to ensure he didn’t have to take her to the hospital. It had nothing to do with the way her trousers hugged her frame or the belt accentuated her waist. Mycroft settled her into a booth, going to get her a meal and some water. He settled across from her, sliding the water to her first. 

“Wait, give me the chips!”

“You’ll appreciate drinking that water in the morning.”

“Fine,” she pouted, taking a sip and holding her hands out. Mycroft sighed, sliding the plate to her.

“Well Ms. Garner,” he smiled tightly. “Do tell me how my brother is?”

“Ugh, don’t wanna,” she groaned, all she’d had to drink now fully entering her system. He was too smart. She didn’t want their first meal to be her, drunk and unable to maintain cohesion. “The same old. Strung out. Shoots a gun. Lives with a junkie. They cook-well maybe not meth but something.”

“Has he had any other guests?” Mycroft asked, watching her sway slightly and look at him with heavy lids. He already knew the answer, of course. He had, however, underestimated the amount Sarah had imbibed in that night. Maybe she was a lightweight or maybe she’d had more than he knew. Either way, there was little hope for a productive conversation. He was trying to decide if he should take her to her flat now, but the sheer joy the chips brought her meant he couldn’t take her from their current table.

“No. Just the guy. Maybe like one half assed case. Less gunfire. But a cop visited him.” Mycroft hated to admit it, but he enjoyed seeing the drunken little smile that crossed her lips. She was in no state to go back on her own. It could be deemed rude, but he was tempted to offer her his guest room to see if her smile was as warming in the morning.

“Well, I suppose I did fail to mention he’s a consulting detective. People tend to know. Quite a big deal in London.” His guards fell and a barely there, but genuine, smile crossed his face as she scoffed.

“He does think he’s real smart, huh? Is he always such a pain. ‘Oh, stop! I’m being impressive!’ It gets so old,” she giggled, hands waving as she mimicked her neighbor. Her mind may have been fuzzy in the moment, but seeing the small smile on the serious man’s face gave her a sense of pride she did not expect. He’d maintained the same stoic demeanor, but she could see him beginning to relax ever so slightly.

“I’m the smart one,” Mycroft said, leaning forward as though he was telling her a secret.

“Modest too,” she snorted as she ate the last chip. “It’s time I head home. Since you scared my company, you’re walking me.”

“We could call my car and-”

“No. I wanna walk. C’mon,” she said, hopping up on shaky legs and weaving out the door. It felt rather undignified to him, but Mycroft let himself catch up. She was a little unsteady, he told himself as he let her lean in and place an arm around his shoulders. 

“You’re pissed,” he said simply, his hand moving as gentlemanly as possible to the small of her back. He had to keep her steady, he told himself.

“That means drunk here, right?” she asked. When he nodded, a look of pride crossed his face. “Kinda. Thought I’d have a girls’ night. You kinda crashed it and messed up my timing.”

“Your timing?” he asked, one brow raised.

“I woulda been this drunk after I got home and mostly washed my face. You took me for chips and it was all ruined! Now I’ll sleep in my clothes and make up.”

“Surely you can take care of yourself.”

“Can I? Yes. Will I? No. Drunk me is too lazy. If you’re too concerned, you can come wash my face though.”

“That’s preposterous. How would I do that? I can’t support you at the sink.”

“Make up wipes and a bowl of water?” she offered, grinning as she stood a little more at the idea of him coming into her place.

“Do you just want to be treated like a child?” he asked, rolling his eyes. Then she gave him another toothy grin with her nod and something inside him warmed again. “Fine. I’ll come tuck you in. You do realize you are an adult working towards their PhD?”

“Maybe. But I’m also lazy and cute.”

“I suppose I can agree with that,” he whispered, hoping she wouldn’t comment on his agreement. “Now go change and get in bed. I’ll get water and whatever these wipes are from your restroom. Let me know when you are decent”

Sarah lit up, following directions and settling in her bed in shorts and a tank top before calling for him. Mycroft had cared for plenty of drunks in his time, but he never enjoyed it. They had let themselves get that way. It wasn’t his fault. But Sarah seemed to be affecting him differently, something that was deeply unsettling for him. Pushing the discomfort down, he focused instead on the girl looking at him with eyes barely open.

“Mycroft!” she giggled groggily. “I’m sleepy.”

“You’re drunk,” he corrected, holding out two aspirin and a glass. “Take these before we wash your face.”

“Do you only wear suits?” she asked as she downed her pills. “Because it’s so late and not a work day and you’re wearing a suit?”

“Everyday is a work day. Now finish the water,” he said plainly, taking the wipe and starting to clean her face. She hummed lightly, leaning into his touch. Mycroft was grateful when she closed her eyes. All of this felt like something he wasn’t meant to see. When he’d finished, he stood and ran a hand over her hair. “Get some sleep, dear. We’ll talk again soon.”

“Hopefully when I’m not pissed,” she managed, voice thick with sleep and pride at her use of slang.

“Yes, one can only hope,” he smiled fondly, settling her blanket over her. “Rest, Sarah. I’ll be back.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sarah had spent the day dodging Justin’s attempts to flirt in a messy day. From the time she left, little things had gone wrong. Her coffee had spilled over her blouse. She’d forgotten the book for her class, so she’d taught from a colleague’s copy and didn’t have the notes she wanted. Her tights had a run and her curls had fallen in the rain. It was cold and dreary and her coat was by her door. The exhaustion from Sherlock’s comings and goings keeping her awake meant that, had he flirted today, she’d call him a cretin and take it all out on her fellow instructor who, while mildly annoying, was also kind. As the strap of her bag gave out again, she realized there were certainly eyes on her, and if she had to guess, they were just around the corner ahead of her. 

“You can stop hiding,” Sarah called out, trying fruitlessly to bend the heavy metal ring in a way that would get her hom. Mycroft stepped around the corner, one hand in his pockets and the other holding the phone whose screen he stared at. Mycroft had seen her leaving in the morning. Sherlock had been in and out all night and Sarah left before the younger Holmes returned. He’d seen the coffee spill, checking in on her throughout the day. A colleague had trailed behind her most of the day. A tall, gangly man with long hair and a long beard. He didn’t like the way the man watched Sarah; it was uncouth, and if he was honest, a look he had to suppress himself. But Mycroft had the decency to suppress it. 

“You’ll catch cold,” he said simply, deciding to gloss over the fact it was her shapely legs that were barely protected by a pair of sheer tights that made him note it.

“Thanks, mom. I’m aware. I was in a hurry and forgot my coat,,” she sighed. She leaned against the brick wall, back flat against it. Mycroft came to stand in front of her, examining her. He was now acutely aware the fact she wasn’t wearing a coat hadn’t been what tipped him off. It was unwise for him to let that overpower his deduction. He lit a cigarette, expecting her to chide him- she had the only other time she’d seen him smoke- but instead she took the lit cigarette from his hand, taking a drag and giving him a playful grin.

“Be my guest,” he snorted, lighting himself another. Sarah noted that his lighter suited him; it was brass, though she wouldn’t be surprised if it was actually gold, and ornate and seemed to have his initials engraved into it. “I’m guessing it’s been a difficult day?”

“Yes,” she nodded, tilting her head from side to side as though it would relieve the tense muscles of her shoulder. “This is not a report but a friend telling a friend that your brother was in and out loudly at all hours. Kept me awake and from then on, the day just kept going downhill.”

“You sound as though you could use a drink,” Mycroft noted, trying to be nonchalant and trying to ignore the sirens warning him he was starting to care. 

“I’m not reporting on Sherlock today.”

“The offer still stands, even if I leave with no more information.”

“You do know you don’t have to pretend it’s a duty. You worry about him.”

“Someone just has to keep him in line.” She deserved to know there was a reason to be concerned. There were more than two Holmes siblings, and some part of him knew the east wind was coming. Sarah deserved to be safe. He could tell she seemed to think this was simply the case of an overprotective brother; this was just about addiction. In another world, he’d have ignored his brother and taken the first opportunity to take Miss Garner to dinner. Instead, he had the nation to worry about. He had his brother. His family’s feelings.

Sarah could see the nervousness etched into Mycroft’s face. Despite the oddness that permeated her experiences with him, she wanted to do something to help. His brow was ever so slightly knitted and he seemed even stiffer than usual.

“I want to change. My coffee is still on my shirt. But, I’d be glad to get a drink with you. Or you could come to Baker Street.”

“Miss Garner--”

“Sarah.” A soft chuckle from him.

“Sarah. I can’t be spending my time on Baker Street. I would love to say yes, but my brother will be suspicious.” Though he’d pretend it had nothing to do with the ever so slight shift in her demeanor, he added, “If your concern is wanting to stay in one place, you could come to my home. It’s a drive but I have got a guest room. It sounds like sleeping without my brother keeping you up could be as much help as a drink.”

“Are you inviting me to a slumber party?” she grinned, the excitement returning to her eyes.

“Well, if that’s what you wish to call it.”

“Let me go change my clothes.” Mycroft nodded.

“My car will pick you up in an hour at Baker Street. Though, I must say I don’t understand why you’d want to spend an evening with me.”

“Research,” she teased, bumping his hip with her own as she passed. That was when Mycroft knew he’d have to walk a fine line. He wanted her, but he certainly didn’t deserve her. One of them had to keep the distance.


	4. Chapter 4

“Thank you for joining me,” Mycroft smiled, opening the door to let Sarah into his home. The fact it was a real smile surprised her more than expected. The small smiles she pulled from him with pride were nothing comparably. He was surprised when she wrapped him in a hug, arms going around her awkwardly as he patted her back. 

“I’m happy to. I’m not even reporting on your brother this time. It’s almost like you like my company,” she teased, following him to place her bag in the guest room.

“Research,” he said, corner of his mouth lifting. 

“Yeah, yeah.” she settled her bag, stopping by the restroom before heading downstairs. They had eaten a few dinners together and walking in to see him without his jacket on was almost alarming. She stopped for a moment, noting that he didn’t seem good at relaxing. He wore sleeve garters, something she found more attractive than expected. Moving around to the seat beside him, Sarah gave a soft smile.

“Thank you for always keeping me aware of Sherlock, even if it isn’t a report.”

“Of course,” she said softly. “I kind of figured out this is all secretly brotherly love.” Mycroft let out a noise, adjusting his sleeves. “It’s true. I can tell you’re concerned.”

“It’s just my duty.”

“Mycroft, it’s more than that.” He sat straighter, and Sarah furrowed her brow. What little he had relaxed dissipated. His shoulders were tense, and he leaned ever so slightly away. Mycroft was focusing on not letting her in. He wanted to tell her about finding his brother nearly dead, that he now kept a list of what he’d taken so that when he did overdose, Mycroft could save him. That wasn’t why he’d found her today. Even before knowing her day hadn’t been going well. 

“There’s an event I have to attend tomorrow,” he said simply, ignoring the subject of his brother. “Political figures. Dignitaries. I need someone to accompany me.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m asking you to accompany me. I’ll purchase your attire.” He knew the reality. He was old, unattractive, and unavailable. He was not about to make himself vulnerable to her rejection Sarah wanted to put her hand on his knee and tell him she’d rather be his date. Instead, she nodded softly.

“Promise we can go pick it though? I want to feel pretty if I have to meet important people.”

“You’re always beautiful. Why do you think I’ve invited you?” he said, lifting a brow as he looked over at her. “But I’ll take you shopping. I have the day off to prepare. However, I’ll have you know I’m a terrible shopper. Tell me your dress size and I’ll call ahead.”

“All I want you to do is tell me which dress is most appropriate. If my brain isn’t why you invited me, I suppose I’ll need your opinion on what should be flaunted.”

“If you insist. But, I’ll have you know you can do no wrong. Anyone making clothes should be honored if you wear their designs,” he chuckled, moving to pour her a glass of wine. “II’ve taken the liberty of ordering in. It’s no fish and chips, but you have had a tendency to order your meals in the same family of flavors. And always beef when you’re stressed, did you know that? I’m starting to suspect you usually want the steak but feel you shouldn’t order it since I won’t let you pay.”

He was showing his hand, and Mycroft knew it. He cared about her. Sherlock was nothing but a thinly veiled excuse to spend his Friday evenings with Sarah. Her Ph.D. gave him an excuse to invite her to the government function. She’s charming and can make up for me he thought to himself. On occasion, Mycroft dreamed of the day he could drop the pretense and simply take her hand, yet he knew that day was not going to come. He needed to call Sherrinford. He needed to keep his brother on track. Needed to protect the nation. And Sarah needed a man both braver and freer than he could be.

“Look at you. There’s the similarity to Sherlock. Deduction stuff,” she teased, sipping her wine as she watched him. It was different watching him in his element. He seemed like he could breathe.

“Yes, well  _ deduction stuff _ has a filet on its way for you. We can eat, watch a film. And then tomorrow I’ll take you to find a dress that makes you feel pretty.”

“The mocking tone is coming in strong tonight,” she grinned. “Thank you, Mycroft. You really spoil me. Keep this up and you’ll never be rid of me.” And how she hoped that would be so. Domesticity suited Mycroft, though she doubted he’d ever be caught in anything less formal than he wore now. All that he was missing was his coat and his suit jacket.

"Yes well, you make it so easy, my dear," he hummed, standing to fetch their dinner. "I'll be back with that filet."


	5. Chapter 5

“I’ve never gone shopping with a rack pulled for me,” Sarah said, her finger running over the fabric of the dresses reverently. 

“You tend to wear classic dresses. 40s and 50s,” he mused, looking at the dresses as though he knew how to shop for a woman. “I let them know. Please, know it will not hurt me if you prefer something else.”

“No, you did perfectly.” Mycroft felt his chest puff with pride at her praise. 

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“What do you like?” he asked Sarah, pulling his hand away from her back for the fourth or fifth time as they walked along the array of gowns. He found himself analyzing each one, and none were good enough for her.

“I’m assuming you’ll be in a tux?” she asked with a soft smile, looking over at Mycroft. “Maybe black? Match you?”

“You’ll have people think we’re an item.”

“There are worse fates,” she smiled. She wanted to be dressed appropriately, sure, but she also hoped that maybe she’d get another compliment from him. Maybe even a soft touch in passing. 

“I do think jewel tones suit you. Especially green, given how fair you are and your hair. I also like the earthy colors you wear.”

“Really?” she smiled. He nodded, watching as her finger trailed an emerald green gown. The warmth returned to his chest as she took his opinions into consideration. He knew she wouldn’t make the decision just for him, but she was including him in the process. “Is this one in the budget?”

“Just go try it on,” he said, rolling his eyes at her. “I’ll worry about the budget. I did have these pulled, you’ll recall”

“Again, going to spoil me.” She ducked into the dressing room with the saleslady. Already, Sarah had dodged the dreaded how long have you been together? It had struck her as she redirected the blonde that her friendship with Mycroft was more than a little strange. She was certainly attracted to him. It seemed he at least liked her company, which was more than most could claim. The dress was zipped, and as she examined herself, Sarah was suddenly self-conscious. Stepping out, she called for him.

“It’s perfect,” Mycroft said, swallowing as he tried to tear his eyes away. She was fair but with dark red hair. The color suited her, and he found himself fearing how many men he'd have to keep away. It was strapless, with a sweetheart neckline and a bodice that highlighted her waistline. The skirt was full and tea length, a perfect 50s silhouette. If he pretended he hadn’t noticed her figure before, he couldn’t now. And the style suited her. On many, it looked costumey. The fabric was right, the woman was right. It was natural, not a performance. She fidgeted nervously under his gaze as he looked back to her face, and he wanted to step forward and put his hands on the swell of her hips. Instead, he repeated, “It’s perfect.”

“Is it?” she blushed, unsure how to take his change in demeanor. Rather than the moments of a relaxed Mycroft who placed his hand on her back, she had the Mycroft who stayed more distant. He nodded and she smiled up at him. “So I guess it’s a winner?”

“Yes, most certainly,” he said, standing straighter and trying his best to move away from these feelings that kept cropping up. Caring is not an advantage.

Sarah went in to change, proud of the reaction she’d gotten. It threw her off, but she had grown to recognize Mycroft wasn’t any good when he had emotions. If he couldn’t admit to caring about Sherlock, it would be a long time before he got used to her. She came back out as the saleslady kept the dress. Mycroft made his way to their next stop. 

“The exit is the other way,” she said, head cocked to the side and he stared for a moment. 

“You do need shoes, dear,” he said slowly, as though he may be forgetting something. 

“Myc,” she said and his heart skipped a beat. The nickname drew nothing but annoyance from anyone else. The fondness with which she said it drew another smile. “You ain’t gotta do all that.”

“I want to, Sarah,” he hummed, shifting awkwardly. 

“It’s too much. I saw how much the dress is.”

“Fine then, just shoes and I won’t make you pick jewelry,” he said, walking again. 

“You’re going to spoil me,” she said, hand going to her forearm. Her touch made him stiffen, unsure how to react to her touching him.

“Nonsense. It’s simply a pair of shoes. A necklace would be spoiling but I’ve acquiesced and won’t be having you pick one. Trust me, I’m not concerned about the cost. You said you want to feel pretty. And I want to continue spoiling you.” 

“People who say you’re heartless are full of shit,” she said softly. His hand moved to the small of her back intentionally, thumb brushing back and forth. Maybe this could be okay. Just a touch...

“Don’t be daft. I’m the iceman.”


	6. Chapter 6

Sarah had curlers in her hair and was clad in her robe, taking time to get ready for the event with Mycroft, when someone knocked on her door. She opened it to see a small bag, brow furrowing as she picked it up. Her heart puttered when she saw elegant handwriting she recognized as Mycroft’s when she plucked the small white notecard embossed with a formal M.H. 

_ I did acquiesce. You didn’t pick it, but it’s from the antique store you like. I’ll see you this evening. -Mycroft _

Accepting gifts was not her strong suit, but once back in her flat she sat, gingerly taking two boxes out. In the first, she unfolded the paper to find a set of costume jewelry in the emerald of her dress and clear stones. It was on the daintier side, the necklace a gold vine with a floral pendant and earrings to match. A small note was tucked inside.

_ For the dress. _

The second box held a dainty necklace, one she could wear each day. It was a gold chain that met with a petite bar that held a row of stones. She smiled softly, fingers trailing over it. 

_ It matches the earrings you always wear. _

It took effort for her not to tear up. He noticed things, she expected, but even her jewelry was something he remembered. Carefully, she took the necklace out, placing it beside her earrings to put on when she dressed next. She was started when Sherlock swooped into her flat, arms crossed. 

“You’re not going on a  _ date _ with  _ Mycroft _ .” 

“Sherlock, yes, I am accompanying Mycroft to an event. We’re friends.”

“Mycroft doesn’t have friends. You live in this building, so at best you’re a spy. Let me give you the information at least. And you tell me what you tell him.”

“Sherlock, no. Life doesn’t revolve around you. Go away. I’m busy.”

“Mycroft doesn’t care for anyone. He always says as much,” Sherlock said plainly, pausing when he noticed his brother’s handwriting on her table. He lunged for it, Sarah snatching the card before he could.

“What’s all this ruckus?” Mrs. Hudson asked, coming through the open door when she realized Sherlock was in Sarah’s flat and not vice versa. “Oh, Sarah, are you going out with the boy from Speedy’s? He does fancy you.”

“No, it’s so much worse, Mrs. Hudson.”

“He’s being dramatic. I’m accompanying Mycroft to an event.”

“Is he making you?” she asked softly, voice deadly serious.

“No, Mrs. Hudson. We have dinner together and he asked me to accompany him. We went shopping for my dress today.”

“And he’s sent her a gift. I’ve no idea what he’s playing at Mrs. Hudson, but tell her--”

“Sherlock, leave her be,” the older woman said, herding Sherlock out and closing the door behind them.

Once they were gone, Sarah set to work. She brushed out her curls, spraying them and applying her make up carefully. Her red lipstick blotted, she dressed, adjusting herself in the mirror. She had butterflies as the reality hit her that she was not only going to be Mycroft’s date to an event; she was his date to a fancy event. A work event. She clasped the earrings and necklace, fingers running over the pendant. This was all too much, and she still felt guilty, but she also felt beautiful. She felt spoiled, and it was a new but welcome feeling. 

She was sure she was reading way too much into the situation, but the man gave her butterflies. She was content to only see him once a week, but she wanted to touch him. Suddenly, it struck her that this was the first time she’d be seeing him that was planned. Sure, she saw him regularly, but usually, it was him sending a text for her to be outside. When she heard a hushed voice talking with Mrs. Hudson, she stepped outside. Her breath caught when she saw him. He was always dressed impeccably, but this was a step beyond. 

“Sarah,” he said, voice warmer than Mrs. Hudson had ever heard it. The older woman didn’t know how to feel about the pairing, Mycroft could tell. She’d seen too much, knew too much, knew he’d probably hurt Sarah, intentionally or accidentally.

“I’m going to have to steal him away, Mrs. Hudson,” she smiled softly, cheeks red as she watched him. His mouth had opened just slightly, his senses overwhelmed. Usually, he saw what things meant. The details came together and the thoughts came faster than he expected. Sarah, however, his mind was willing to let be. Did he occasionally choose to deduce what she was doing or thinking or enjoying? Of course. But only when he chose.

“Sarah, you look beautiful. I hope he’s aware he ought to be grateful you’ll be seen with him,” she smiled, reaching to pull her down to kiss the younger woman’s cheek in the way only a mother can get away with.

“I am. You look absolutely gorgeous, Sarah,” Mycroft managed, eyes raking over her. This was what would do him in. She looked stunning and ready to be in the environment he was thrusting her into. There was no doubt in Mycroft’s mind academia had taught her to charm whoever they encountered. And she seemed genuinely happy to be spending an evening with him. That part of the night was going to be the newest for him. 

“Thank you, Myc.” He stepped to her side, hand settling on the small of her back. It felt comfortable and right as he guided her to the car.. Maybe he couldn’t build a life with her, but maybe he could at least let himself loosen up. Mrs. Hudson gave him a knowing smile before going back to her flat, and Sarah directed her gaze to him now. He may have paid for her dress, but something about the simple necklace made him feel like he’d marked her. She was his companion for the evening-he’d never say date-and seemed pleased.

“You look handsome as ever.” Her hands smoothed over the lapels of his jacket as they waited for the car to make its way back around the block. He was firmer than she’d imagined. Had she imagined this moment? Touching his chest as they stood on the sidewalk outside 221?

“And you look ravishing,” he murmured, the hand at his side moving to cover hers. “It is probably best we get to the car before my brother decides to barge out. I rather imagine he’s sulking in the window.” She nodded, and he opened the door for her. Soon enough, they were at the party. Eyes were on them, he could tell. It was rare he brought a plus one, much less a plus one he kept as close as he did Sarah. And for some cursed, or perhaps it was blessed, reason, the entrance required going down a small set of stairs. He offered his arm, and Sarah gladly took it, smiling when his other hand came to rest on hers.

“Is that the prime minister?” she asked in a hushed tone as she took a glass of champagne from the passing tray. He simply nodded, and she found herself smiling as he placed his hand on her back again so he could take a drink. “Why are people looking at us?”

“It’s been years since I’ve been at one of these events with someone.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her proud smirk. “Don’t get arrogant, my dear. It’s quite tacky.”

“I forget. I’m just arm candy, right? My brains mean nothing.”

“Not exactly. You’re intelligent and beautiful. Quite a rare pairing, wouldn’t you say?”

“If so, we’re a rare pair. You’re handsome and brilliant.” He rolled his eyes. “Careful, that response? Compliments?  _ My _ dear instead of dear? Someone may think you’re courting me.”

“There are worse fates, I suppose.”


	7. Chapter 7

Sarah’s only request of Mycroft was that she have an entire glass of champagne before they met anyone too high up. The nerves were starting to hit her. Mycroft chuckled to himself, knowing she still believed, to an extent, his position was minor. She knew the ways he could watch both her and Sherlock, as well as his parents, but didn’t seem to understand what that meant. When the time came, Sarah stayed by his side as Mycroft led her around, his hand only leaving her back to greet however was appropriate.. He introduced her to more people than she could ever remember, and when they’d run out of their second glass of champagne, he asked her to dance. Correctly, he assumed she didn’t know how to formally dance.

“Just follow my lead,” he assured her. “I doubt you’ll quite pick it up, but no one will be watching your feet.” She’d laughed at that, her hand moving to rest on his shoulder. His hand on her waist let her bring her closer than he’d ever dared before. He savored it, watching her as he kept her near enough that anyone watching may think that they were in love.

“I’m guessing you learned to dance growing up?” she smiled, enjoying the opportunity to see his face this close up. She wanted to memorize each crease, each mark, the way the corner of his mouth lifted when she said something that would make him smile if they were alone. If she were more confident, she might have kissed him.

“I did. Our parents were insistent. And we learned instruments. My brother took violin. I picked piano,” he smiled fondly. She wanted to remember the fond smile too, just in case he ever realized how out of her element events like these actually made her feel. But he managed to melt the nerves and make her feel like a princess.

“I’m from Georgia. I learned to ride a horse and clean a deer.”

“Well, to each their own,” he chuckled. “You’ve got everyone here believing you grew up in these situations.”

“Thank goodness. I wouldn’t want anyone here to think you’re courting a commoner."

“Absolutely,” he said, hand moving higher so his thumb could brush against the skin above her zipper in time to the rhythm. When the song came to an end, he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them lightly. He let her go as he moved to get them each another drink, handing her one as part of one fluid movement. She stayed by his side, listening as the prime minister spoke with a smile. She responded where she felt able, but soon, Mycroft was guiding her away. He was needed somewhere. Soon enough she was by his side as he led her into a room. 

“Sherlock left the apartment. Normally, I would not let you near work. That said, he’s someone you deal with too,” he said stiffly, hands now kept to himself. The shift that occurred as he entered fully fledged work mode made her nervous, and the woman he spoke to quite honestly scared her. What she disliked the most was when she was introduced only as the girl that lives in Sherlock’s building. The butterflies in her stomach turned to knots and her face fell. Was that all she was?

“Everyone dies. It’s the one thing human beings can be relied upon to do,” he’d said when Lady Smallwood suggested John Watson might be grieving. She knew Mycroft better than that. He’d be crushed if Sherlock died. He put effort forth to keep him alive and grieved at the idea of Sherlock’s loss.

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” Sarah chided him, hand resting on his back. When he bristled and pulled away, she pulled back, dropping into a chair. He continued his conversation as though she wasn’t there. It stung, but this was his work. Or at least, these were his colleagues. She could see them tracking Sherlock. Apparently, he did this often because as they traced the route, it appeared he’d intentionally spelled FUCK OFF. She settled for simply watching Mycroft as he called John. She felt teary as she sat at the edge of the room. Interns gave her sad looks and her face burned, embarrassment overtaking all the good feelings she’d had through the night.

“The fact that I’m his brother changes absolutely nothing. It didn’t the first time and it won’t with--” As soon as the words had left his mouth, she saw his whole demeanor change further. It felt like she could see the walls go up again, brick by brick. She waited until they were in the car. He hadn’t spoken to her yet, and he was as far as he could get. Without hanging out the window.

“Mycroft, what happened?”

“Sherlock left his flat to give me a message.” She turned in her seat, sighing as she watched him. She felt a traitorous tear escape, trying to wipe it away before he could see.

“You aren’t stupid. You know I’m asking about the first time. Do you have another sibling?”

“I’m afraid that isn’t any of your business, Miss Garner,” he said cooly. He regretted how he was treating her as soon as he said it. She’d been smiling through their entire day together. It had been because of him. Now, he could see the tears she was fighting, but he couldn’t reach to wipe her eyes.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said softly, looking down at her lap. “It was silly of me to get carried away. I was arm candy for the night, right?”

“Precisely. I needed company for the night,” he said before he could stop himself, the self imposed restrictions coming back. A storm was coming and he could feel it. If this had continued, she’d end up hurt. What he didn’t expect was how strong the urge to reach over and hold her would be when the tears did come. “Sarah--”

“No, it’s fine,” she’d managed as the car stopped outside Baker street, no longer bothering to hide her tears. “Goodnight Mr. Holmes.” He felt a pain in his chest, watching as she made her way in. She brushed past Sherlock in the hall, who stared out the door and into the back window of the car with thinly veiled anger. He tried to call her for the next hour, and she sent him to voicemail each time. While the instinctual part of him that knew he should stay away fought it, the part of him that couldn’t forget the feel of her against him as they danced ensured roses would be delivered the next morning.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been three weeks since they’d seen each other. Each morning, Mycroft ensured a cup of her favorite coffee was sitting on her desk. Each Sunday, he ensured a bouquet arrived on her doorstep. There was never a note anymore, but Sarah knew who they were from. He never left a voicemail, never sent a text, certain that when she was ready, she would reach out. Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson had laid into him, Sherlock leaving him a voicemail telling him the warning he’d given Sarah. Mrs. Hudson had just emphasized that she’d had hope, but now he confirmed how cruel he truly was. Sarah was hurt as much as she was embarrassed. His gifts made the wounds smart, even though she still found herself wearing the necklace he’d given her after the first week. Mycroft did not expect that she would finally call as a helicopter was following Mrs. Hudson or that his brother would be in the boot of the car. He answered relieved to hear her voice.

“Sarah,” he said, his voice thick with emotion he couldn’t hide this time. He was glad he was in the privacy of his office. “I miss you.” He’d never said something that made him feel so weak, but he couldn’t bear knowing the way he had made her feel.

“Mycroft, I’m not calling for you. I don’t know what to do there. ,” she’d managed, clinging to the door of Mrs. Hudson’s car. “But Mrs. Hudson is driving like three times the speed limit and Sherlock finally went too far. The whole Culverton Smith tweet and then he was screaming and nearly shot Mrs. Hudson on accident. She cuffed him and I got the boys from Speedy’s to load him in her trunk.”

“You do know the boys from Speedy’s fancy you,” he said more bitterly than he intended.

“They don’t treat me like arm candy,” she bit out. “You were a complete ass. I thought you liked me but obviously I was wrong. Just, when we get there, keep Mrs. Hudson from getting arrested. There’s a helicopter. And lots of cops.”

“Only if you’ll get in the car I’m sending to bring you here afterwards.” He knew it was a low blow, but the past weeks had been a blur of CCTV footage. The professor with long hair had been following her as much as ever. She’d gone out for drinks three different nights. He hated not dropping in and this was his chance. The way she sounded upset he didn’t fancy her made him take the opportunity.

“You’re kidding me?”

“Only if you’ll get in the car.”

“Jesus Christ. Fine! Just do it, okay?”

Sarah waited by the car, having shoved her cell phone at the police officer. When Mrs. Hudson let Sherlock out, she opted to wait outside, taking her phone back from the officer before dropping to sit on the curb.

_ See you soon. -MH _

_ You’re a bastard -SG _

When the car pulled up, she climbed in, ignoring Mycroft’s assistant as she opted to play a game on her phone instead. When they arrived, she was escorted into an office and marched around his desk. He jerked back as she reached into his breast pocket, taking the gold cigarette case and lighter. Once she was on the other side of his desk, she took the ashtray and lit a cigarette. He felt relief to see her, no matter how furious she was.

“Sarah,” he said softly as soon as the door was closed. He could see Anthea’s arched brow as she shut the door. He’d arranged the flowers and coffee on his own, so to her, this was a change.

“Mister Holmes,” she replied coolly, arms hugging herself as she blew out smoke. The pain returned to his chest. “I got the flowers and the coffee.”

“I’m sorry for implying you were arm candy,” he said, moving to lean on his desk in front of her. “You’re much more than that.”

“You didn’t imply it. You said it, Mycroft. You said it and you acted like it,” she managed, angry now at him and the tears that fell again. “I felt like you cared about me and I felt like you were proud to be there with me. And then in front of all those people you acted like that. People kept looking at me like a kicked puppy and then you spoke to me like that. I just feel stupid. I thought you fancied me, too, and you didn’t have the balls to tell me privately I was wrong.” 

She knew she’d said too much, but it hurt. She cared for him and respected him. The way he just turned off any affection for her made her feel alone in a room of people she didn’t know. He could’ve been kind and professional. Been affectionate but not touchy. She knew who he was, she’d thought. And then, in front of people, she realized she was wrong.

“I do fancy you,” he whispered, posture getting tenser and his voice getting quieter with each word. “I don’t know how to fancy someone. And I shouldn’t. In my job, it’s dangerous.”

“I’m a big girl. I figured that out. It’s also dangerous to live downstairs from your brother. I don’t care. And you kept being so sweet. Looking at me like I’m special. Then you just got so cold.”

“Sarah, that’s going to be the hardest part,” he said, moving to sit beside her and take her hand. “If we continue to spend time together, if this is to truly become a courtship, you need to understand I can’t tell you some things. I can’t be affectionate in front of people. More importantly, I don’t know how. Caring is not an advantage, but I care for you.”

“Bullshit,” she spat. “You were affectionate throughout the entire evening. You didn’t have to be affectionate in that room. But I expect you to make sure I’m okay, or comfortable, or respected.”

“I do respect you.”

“I said one thing, you ignored it, and you were angry I touched you.”

“You said we didn’t have to touch.”

“But you could’ve stepped away. Not looked like it was the worst thing to happen.”

He stood, mulling the events in that room in his mind. They hadn’t touched on his deepest regret yet. 

“I could’ve changed in the surveillance room, but I regret the car the most deeply. I cannot guarantee I won’t shut down in the trenches of work. Events or while I’m doing paperwork is different. I deeply apologize for being that aggressive. I should’ve made sure you were comfortable and then dealt with work.”

“You called me the girl who lives beneath Sherlock, not even your friend.” 

“You’re right. That was cruel.” That’s what he was, Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson kept reminding him. “I am sorry for not correcting it in the car. That was the cruelest.”

“It really was,” Sarah sniffed, knowing there was mascara and eyeliner smudging around her eyes. She hated being vulnerable in front of him now, afraid he’d turn again.

“I do not expect you to care for me again, but please, can we at least be friends. I do not allow myself many, but I want to have you around.”

“So do I get to pick what this is?” He nodded, squeezing her hand. “You’re starting from scratch. Pick me up Friday at eight.”

“May I cook you dinner?” he asked, kissing her fingers. “Chicken cordon bleu? That’s what you ordered at our first real dinner.”

“That sounds good to me,” she said, wiping her eyes with the tissue he handed her. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

“You’re wearing the necklace.”

“I still care about you. I need to get home, though.”

“I’ll call you a car,” he told her, pausing to place his hands on her hips. “You’re much more than beautiful, Sarah dear. You’re smart enough I choose to spend my free time with you. No matter what I may say when I’m trying to keep my distance, that is the truth. I do not waste my time with fools.” She smiled softly, kissing his cheek.

“I’ll try to remember that. If you do anything that stupid again, this is completely over. I’m still hurt.” Sarah went home and before the end of the night, she received another bouquet, this time red roses with a handwritten note tucked delicately into the arrangement..

_ I’ll be counting the hours. -MH _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is enjoying! Any comments would be appreciated.


	9. Chapter 9

The wait from Tuesday to Friday was excruciating for both of them. For Sarah, she had little to do outside of school. She spent more time than she would care to admit debating outfits for their dinner. Something was happening with the detective upstairs, but it made her nervous to tell both Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson she was willing to give Mycroft another chance. For Mycroft, he had to keep an eye on the Culverton Smith case and avoid upsetting anyone. When he stayed as John watched Mary’s tape, he’d done it because he, like Sherlock, considered himself part of the group and part of the family. Mrs. Hudson called him a reptile, and he found himself going to Sarah’s door, even though it was Thursday. He knew she was wary to let her flatmates know they were continuing.

“Mycroft?” she asked, clad in leggings - those weren’t fair - and an old college t-shirt. She motioned for him to come in, turning off the music that she’d been cleaning to. “Our date is tomorrow.”

“Yes,” he nodded, ignoring the bright feeling remembering they had an official date brought. “I just needed to see you. It’s been a long week.” He left out Lady Smallwood’s card that he’d brought home Monday in a moment of weakness. If I can’t be with Sarah, maybe some transaction could occur with Elizabeth to forget her, he’d thought. It was stupid, he knew now.

“Are you alright?” she asked, moving to pour him a glass of wine before he could continue.

“Yes. Just wanted to make my day better by seeing you,” he said with the slightest smile on his face as he accepted the wine. “I was thinking I could take you to dinner tonight. I’ll still cook for you tomorrow.”

“I’d like that,” she said softly, tucking her legs beneath her as she settled beside him. “But drink your wine. You need to relax first.”

“Yes dear,” he chuckled lightly, doing as she said. “Remind me to buy you better wine.”

“My wine is just fine,” she said, feigning offense.

“That’s just it. You should have superb wine.”

“Damn, Mycroft. You covered your ass,” she teased. “I’m going to get dressed. How dressy on a scale of one to ten?”

“A nice dress and heels is a seven, correct?”

“Close enough. I have to shower. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Do you ever take the necklace I gave you off?” he asked, watching her.

“No. Why?”

“Just curious,” he said, leaning back to sip his wine as she got ready. He hated to admit the necklace brought up the feeling he’d marked her. As long as she wore it, she still fancied him. Maybe that was more emotional than he wanted to accept, but it made him feel secure. Maybe what scared him was as much that she’d leave him. When he looked up to see her stepping out in a wrap dress and pumps, he stared more openly than he had before.

“What?” she blushed, smoothing her skirt nervously. She wanted to be able to say she hadn’t agonized over which dress he would like to see her in.. He was staring and she found herself wondering if it was too much? Maybe it wasn’t enough.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, moving to walk over to her. “I was just admiring the woman that keeps choosing to spend evenings with me.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, hands smoothing his jacket like she had done on the most wonderful and dreadful night as she looked up at him. He gave her the slightest of smiles, offering her his arm.

“We’re taking my car. There’s a nice quiet place. It’s been too long since I last saw you.”

“Yeah?” she smiled softly. “It’s getting late, Mycroft.”

“You can stay at my house. I’m a gentleman, you know.” She stopped him as they waited for his car, smiling up at him as his stomach fluttered. He’d underestimated how knowing she wanted to spend time with him would impact him. His arm moved to wrap around her as he spotted the younger man he’d seen staring at her from Speedy’s in the past doing so now. It was the most contact he’d had since they danced, but he’d be damned if that boy thought he was just friendly with her. “I can work from home tomorrow, so you are more than welcome to stay until dinner. I’m afraid I will be boring, but I would welcome your company.”

“I need to work on my dissertation,” she smiled softly, leaning into him as they waited. “I’ll have to get a bag.”

“I’ll have someone pick up your bag. Any particular clothes?” he asked, texting with his free hand.

“You don’t know that my stuff is in my bag.”

“Always is. If your laptop is inside, the back right corner bulges. You were also cleaning, so you haven’t used it today because you’re avoiding grading. It also tilts the rack when your books are in it. Now, what clothes?”

“Stop showing off, even if it’s impressive.”

“You find me impressive?” he smirked down at her, pocketing his phone as the car pulled up. He took the liberty of requesting leggings and a longer blouse. If she wasn't going to tell him, he'd ensure he got to appreciate her figure.

“Don’t get cocky, Holmes.”

"Never, Sarah dear."


	10. Chapter 10

Mycroft blinked awake, acutely aware of the unfamiliar weight on his chest. His gaze lowered, and he smiled to see a mess or red curls. They’d shared a bed. Nothing sexual. They’d been going up the stairs after a comfortable evening talking by his fireplace. It had felt domestic, something he was surprised to find he loved. She’d had her legs tucked beneath her listening intently and sharing eagerly. He didn’t appear nearly as relaxed, but after a couple of drinks, he was telling her what he could about work and his childhood. They made their way up the stairs, and with a shy smile, Sarah had invited him to lay with her. She wasn’t propositioning him; they’d yet to kiss. His heart had skipped a beat when he realized she just wanted him there. He’d kissed her temple, going to put on his pajamas and giving her time to do the same. Sarah smiled sweetly as he came in and all Mycroft could think was of the east wind that was surely coming. This was a bad idea, but he had now endured weeks without her and her one evening in his home made him realize the warmth it could hold. He was pulled from his thoughts as she stirred, sighing happily as her hand gripped his shirt while she moved. 

“Myc?” she hummed, eyes still heavy with sleep as she looked up with a crooked grin. He hated that name when anyone else said it. Sherlock would mock him with it, but even his mother’s fondness didn’t take it. From Sarah, the sweet affection made his arm tighten around her.

“Sarah dear?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair. “Did you sleep alright?”

“I did,” she said softly, watching him. “Did you?”

“I did,” he agreed. “I enjoy having you near.”

“You’re getting awful affectionate.”

“Are you complaining?”

“I’m very happy.”

“I can’t promise I’ll be so affectionate in public. I must keep you safe.”

“I understand.” And she did. He’d admitted he watched her too, but the more she considered it, the less surprised she was. And while she’d rather him not, it wasn’t to judge her choices or address what she was doing. He had been through enough with his brother and his work that he just wanted to ensure she was okay.

“I’ve got to get dressed for work. Louise, the maid, cooks breakfast weekdays, and it will be ready at six thirty. I must check my e-mail before I shower. Would you like to shower first?” 

“I would,” she nodded, feeling his hand going to her cheek. He pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, the first time he’d done so. Sitting up as though nothing had shifted, he stretched. Sarah watched him with a smile dancing on her lips. If it were anyone else, she’d mention it, but it was better not to have Mycroft analyze anything. “Go do the government man thing. I’ll be out of the shower by the time you’re back. And feel free to do that whenever you’d like.” 

And she was. He came in to see her in the mirror, blow drying her hair. Whoever brought her clothes thankfully ignored his request and remembered he had appointments, even if he was home. Still, she was wearing tapered brown slacks and a cream sweater. Mycroft watched her fondly, noting she tended to dress as classically as he did. Maybe narcissism was why he liked her, or maybe it was the fact she wasn’t put off by him. He moved behind her, one arm around her.

“I like you staying here,” he said softly. He knew being with him could be dangerous for her, but he was already taking precautions. She had security she didn’t know about and she was the only one other than Sherlock he kept watched at all times. He wouldn’t let anything hurt her.

“I like it too,” she whispered, stretching to kiss him softly, her hands flat against his chest. The affection made his heart flutter again.

“My home’s always open to you, Sarah. It’s fast, but I want you to know I have no intention of this being short term.”

“It’s not short term for me either,” she assured him. If she was braver, or crazier, she’d have said she’d just live there. Mycroft’s slick black cars could pick her up and drop her off daily. She knew this needed to move slowly, however, so she turned back to the mirror, catching his gaze in it. “I could come weekends?”

“That would be best. I’ll have a key made for you,” he agreed. He didn’t miss the look on Louise’s face as she came in with a second plate. She’d run his household for ten years, and in those ten years no woman had been brought home. If an encounter had happened, it had been in a hotel room or the person’s home. Louise knew that something was changing, and he knew she’d have dozens of questions when he asked her for a copy of the key. He helped her set up at the conference table in his office, and she chose a seat that let her watching the trees outside the window as she though. As they worked, Mycroft found himself watching her. He had a meeting with Lady Smallwood and felt this was one of the things you tell your- girlfriend felt silly. Partner? Maybe he should clarify that as well.

“Darling?” he asked, closing the file in front of him as he leaned back. 

“Yes?” She placed a mark in her book, looking up at him. 

“I’ve a meeting today with Lady Smallwood. She’s the one you met that night,” Sarah nodded tightly. “I want you to know she propositioned me, and I was weak and accepted her card. I did nothing with it, or with her. I would never pursue it, but I know that’s something you probably want me to tell you as you are my significant other.”

“I don’t like her,” Sarah grumbled, unable to stop herself from feeling jealous. “But I trust you. I appreciate you informing me, and it lets me know you won’t act on it. That’s what you’re supposed to do. You deduced correctly.”

“It’s based more upon film and people boring me with their relationships.”

“Significant other is a weird name.”

“I was thinking partner is most appropriate.”

“I can’t imagine you saying ‘girlfriend’ so I agree.”

“It’s agreed then,” he said, looking back at his papers.

“That’s the most formal defining of a relationship I’ve ever had.”

“I need labels. Categorization is pertinent to keeping things in order.” She stood, going to kiss him softly.

“What category is a lunch break in?”

“Unnecessary unless you want one.”

“I want one. Let’s go eat.”


	11. Chapter 11

Sarah had to wait in the rest of the house as Mycroft, Lady Smallwood, and another man met in Mycroft’s office. She made it a point to find where Mycroft emptied his pockets and dispose of Lady Smallwood’s card, which sat under coins and coffee and other business cards, snd the fact that meant he probably hadn’t used it was comforting. He said things should take about an hour, and when the time neared she waited near his door. The moment it opened, she started to stand, making her way over.

“Lady Smallwood,” she smiled as warmly as she could muster, hips swaying as she went towards the door. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“We’ve met?”

“Not formally. I came to an event with Myc about a month ago. Sherlock started acting up again, so we had to hurry home.” Mycroft was watching the pair, amused. Sarah could see the smile he was fighting and the way his brow lifted. It seemed he wasn’t the only one with a possessive streak.

“Lady Elizabeth Smallwood, my partner Sarah Garner. Sarah, you remember Lady Smallwood.” As lady Smallwood stepped into the hall, Sarah stepped in. She went to a cabinet, taking her laptop and book out to set them in the spot she’d been working as Mycroft wrapped up his goodbyes.

“Sweetheart,” she called to Mycroft once he finished, but not after Lady Smallwood left. “Can you tell me if this chapter flows well once you’ve finished working? The idea is there but I’m having a bit of trouble communicating it.”

“Of course darling. Just let me finish some paperwork,” he said with the slightest of smiles. She watched Lady Smallwood leave as Mycroft closed the door and moved to her. “Someone gets jealous.”

“You got a deathgrip when Joey came out of Speedy’s,” she teased, hands resting on his chest as his went to her hips. “Apparently, you’re mine, and I want her knowing you’re mine.”

“You never take the necklace off,” he noted again. “Do you know why I like that?”

“Why?”

“I bought it. I didn’t buy it with this intention, but when I see you wearing it it’s a sign you are mine. So, I understand your need to barge in and make a show in front of Lady Smallwood. Are there any coworkers I need to make a show in front of?”

“It’s kind of hot you’re possessive. Y’know, the guy in my program teaching American literature hits on me.”

“I’ve seen him. I hate him.” Mycroft asked, grip tightening. 

“You even watch me at work.”

“Only when you’re between buildings.”

“Likes my Southern accent. Asked me about my necklace,” she chuckled. “Unfortunately we were fighting, but I did say it’s from the man who sent the roses.”

“I suppose I’ll be picking you up for lunch this week.”

“You’re about to put on a charming boyfriend show, aren’t you?”

“I’m just going to take you out to lunch, darling,” he hummed, kissing her temple and feathering kisses down her cheek and jaw until he reached her lips. She hummed into their kiss, arms wrapping around him. It was their first prolonged kiss, Mycroft found himself noteing. He pulled her against him, heart pounding as he kissed her slowly. His hands moved slowly to the small of her back and it took a concerted effort not to let them roam lower. Her teeth grazed his lower lip and a very undignified groan left him. Reluctantly, he pulled away, hands running over her sides.

“Why’d you stop?” she whined playfully, hands running along his shoulders.

“Because my office is not the place and I have a call with the prime minister soon,” he murmured, slowly composing himself. “I really must do paperwork, darling. Maybe we can resume this after.”

“Are you asking me to make out with you when you finish work?”

“Maybe after dinner? I bought candles.”

“You’re a romantic, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” he said, his composure back as he went to his desk. He noticed her fiddling with the gold bar pendant on the necklace, a habit she hadn’t had before. Was it the knowledge he thought of it as his mark on her? Little did he know it actually was. She was tempted to get a small gold “M” to hang from it. It was now in many ways a reminder for her that they both intended to navigate this together. She was practical when it came to relationships. Things may well end. That said, thus far they were well matched and he seemed like someone who rarely placed trust in anyone outside himself, yet he chose her.

There was something else. He was her person. The physical and romantic attraction was a perk. Before anything else, he was who she’d come to trust the most. It had been a few weeks of knowing each other before she was his date. Then a few weeks of fighting, during which she was never truly angry. Now it had been a week of him obviously trying to keep communication open and she was grateful. For him, she was the first person whose company he found himself prefering to solitude. They understood each other. Neither needed constant touch or assurance, though she had a tendency to want touch. They just wanted the support and solace.

“Myc?” she said softly, looking over at him as she closed her book.

“Yes?” he answered, setting his pen aside.

“You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine, Sarah dear,” he said softly, voice heavy with emotion. “You’re certainly mine.”


	12. Chapter 12

When Mycroft woke up to Sarah Saturday morning, things were different. He’d intended to move slowly, but the evening had just felt so right that when she unbuttoned his shirt he decided to let go. He had always thought spooning seemed silly, but having his arms around her bare waist and his face in her hair made him realize that spooning made a lot more sense than he’d given it credit for. His logical mind didn’t consider that having his lover close and feeling he was somehow cradling and protecting her would outweigh the fact he was warmer than he usually liked and his arm had fallen asleep. He buried his face in her hair, the movement causing her to wake.

“Myc?” she yawned, wriggling in his arms to lay on her other side so she could see him. “Why are you awake so early?”

“Habit,” he answered, fingers trailing her bare skin.

“Last night was perfect,” she whispered, eyes going from his face to his shoulder where she’d apparently left a mark on him. She knew he’d be in dress shirts every day, but she liked knowing her mark would be on his skin. His fingers touched the necklace resting on her chest.

“It was,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her lovingly. “We have to get up soon. I’m going to visit Sherlock in the hospi--”

“Sherlock is in the hospital?” 

“Yes. The Culverton situation came to a head. Culverton tried to kill him. I received urgent messages and checked them late last night to see the news. Anthea said he was fine and I chose to savor my night by you and go to the hospital today. Mummy and father are coming. It was on the news so I couldn’t keep his current state from her.”

“You’re a mama’s boy aren’t you?” she smiled softly, watching him. She should’ve known he doesn’t sleep through the night. He rolled his eyes but the faintest smile stayed on his lips and he nodded ever so slightly.

“I do realize things are new and this would be quite a large step in our relationship quite quickly. That said, would you care to come with me?”

“There’s no better excuse to get approved by mummy,” she nodded, hand on his. “Are they like you and Sherlock?”

“Father is not. He’s intelligent, but mummy is a genius. She gave up work when Sherlock was born. I was seven.”

“She probably realized you two were going to be trouble.”

“Sherlock is trouble. She simply realized I needed friends.” The idea of a young Mycroft spending his days alone didn’t sit well with her, but Sarah decided to gloss over it for now. Over the last few days, little bits had been admitted, and Sarah was realizing Mycroft had gone a long time with no friends.

“You’ll need to come to Baker Street with me. I’m out of clean clothes, and I’d like to look nice.” He gave a soft nod, kissing her again.

“Of course. Now, I do believe it would make the most sense for you to join me in the shower. Water conservation.”

“Ah yes, I forget you’re an environmentalist,” she laughed. “Y’know, you can just want to shower with me, Myc. Believe it or not, I’d like to shower with you.”

He huffed lightly, and Sarah almost would swear she saw his cheeks flush ever so slightly. Soon enough they were in her apartment. She had dresses laid out, all of which he knew his mother would approve of. Though he’d never admit it, when he’d realized he stood a chance, Mycroft researched relationships. The preoccupation with her appearance today was endearing because some part of him recognized it mattered to her. He’d picked them up coffee and the bagels they were both finishing up.

“I think you’d be most comfortable in the cigarette pants,” he advised, sitting in the armchair in her bedroom. “You adjust your skirts quite often. I think you assume they catch themselves on your bag and that worry carries over to day to day. And you also tend to appear the most relaxed in sweaters. Besides,” he paused to take a breath. “I like the way you look in that combination. You veer towards the vintage bombshell.”

“You do?” she asked, flushing a deep red as she lit up. He felt proud as he looked up at her, his chest puffing ever so slightly.

“Yes, I do,” he continued. “You have a simply tantalizing figure. It shows it off.”

“I like compliments instead of excuses,” she teased, kissing him. She changed into plaid to compliment his suit, tucking in the simple white sweater and situating her ever-present necklace. She opted for flats, finding she’s been enjoying being much smaller than Mycroft. He offered his arm as she grabbed her purse.

“Again, beautiful,” he said softly as they settled into his car.

“I have to keep up with you, my dear,” she smiled softly. “I’m fortunate to have an incredibly handsome partner.” He made a noise, offering his arm again as they made their way inside. “Sherlock will be fine, but his kidneys are healing. He will be returning to Baker Street this afternoon. Mummy and father will situate him, then John, Molly, and I will take shifts watching him.”

“I can take on a couple shifts if you need.”

“I’d rather you not be burdened with this.”

“Then come see me after yours. You’ll need to decompress.”

“No, I’ll be fine.” She rolled her eyes as they went to Sherlock’s room. She could hear playful bickering from who she assumed to be Mr. Holmes and whining from Sherlock. A woman stepped in front of her.

“You’re Sarah,” she beamed, and that moment told her all she needed to know. This was mummy. She wasn’t as imposing as her sons could be, nor was her husband. Both looked like you’d imagine doting parents to. The woman held her close, holding her biceps.

“Yes, I am,” she smiled as she released Mycroft’s arm.

“He didn’t tell me you were pretty. Mycroft, why didn’t you tell me she was so pretty?”

“She's remarkable. I told you. It’s an all-encompassing term, mummy,” he said, leaning down to kiss his mother’s cheeks. Mummy gladly let Sarah go to kiss her eldest’s cheek in return.

“You’re the first woman we’ve ever gotten to meet,” his father said from his seat. “They’re both right too. Very pretty.”

“She’s also intelligent,” Mycroft interjected, remembering how sore the idea of being arm candy had left her and determined to insure his parents noted both things.

“You’re the first woman we’ve heard of,” mummy corrected, ignoring everyone else. Sarah sat beside Mycroft as mummy Holmes sat beside father. “How did you meet?”

“I moved in at Bakers Street.”

“He tried to pay her to spy on me,” Sherlock said, sitting up in bed now. “Like he does everyone!”

“Myc! We’ve spoken about this,” mummy scolded.

“Yes, we have. I keep an eye on all four of you. It won’t change. Would you rather I just don’t tell you?”

“You watch Sarah too? This must be permanent,” father laughed.

“I expect she is,” Mycroft smiled.

“You could not watch me at work,” Sarah chuckled.

“I need to know who this American Literature gentleman is.”

“Creep.”

“Ah, yes, but your creep.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“In my own home?”

“Then I’ll go to Baker Street.” 

A beat of silence.

“Point taken. I’ll not monitor you in the parking lot.” Sarah rolled her eyes and laughed, hand moving to his knee as mummy Holmes shot father a knowing look. He simply lifted his brow, resuming his bickering with his youngest son.

“I can’t wait to plan the wedding.”

“Mummy, it’s not been long.”

“How long has it been, Sarah?”

“Officially? Like one and a half days. Unofficially? Six weeks with a massive fight in there.”

“You’re counting that in the courtship?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “You just took a while to figure it out.”

“And he’s already introducing you?”

“Well, mummy, should I have left her to sit at home when I have a day off?”

“I’m not saying that.”

“We’re aware it’s been quick,” Sarah said, swatting his knee. “I really do care for him.”

“You certainly shut him up,” Sherlock interjected. “That’s what truly matters.”

“We’ll have to find one for you,” his father laughed.


	13. Chapter 13

“Sarah, we need to talk,” Mycroft had said, sitting down beside her. He knew something was coming, and he knew that if he stayed with Sarah then she would get hurt. Caring was not an advantage; he’d known that since the beginning. Foolishly, Mycroft had thrown caution to the wind. Now, he suspected there were problems at Sherrinford. That meant Sarah being with him could mean she was a target. Could mean that she’d have to lose him to death. Could mean he’d lose her. Knowing she was alive was worth the way his home would soon feel empty and cold. Waking up alone. Taking dinner alone.

“Yeah?” she’d asked, turning towards him as she closed her book. He could see she knew something was wrong. Sarah had noticed he had been less attentive as of late. She took his hands, chewing the inside of her lip. He didn’t return the affection.

“This is not going to work,” he said simply, taking on the stoicism he’d learned throughout his life. He could hear Rudy reminding him that caring was not an advantage. He wondered what Rudy would think to see the mess he’d made of everything. He tried not to respond as he saw the way Sarah’s face fell as her eyes welled up.

“What?” she asked, voice small. He hated himself as he pulled his hands away. This had to be done, so he kept the walls up, even as his head spun and stomach churned. He was protecting her, no matter what she thought. “Tell me what’s wrong. We can fix this.”

“I don’t want to,” he lied, knowing he was succeeding when she stood up and scrubbed her eyes. She was almost trying to push the tears back into her eyes, afraid to cry. Once she cried, it would become weird.

“This is fucking mean,” she whispered, arms wrapped around her middle. “Please, Mycroft. I deserve to know why. You can’t do this to me again.”

“I’m calling you a car. Get your bag. I’m sorry, Sarah.” She was crying now; the tears fell freely. He wanted to hold her to his chest and tell her the truth, but Sarah was stubborn. If he told her there was danger, it would become her life’s mission to help him face it, but Eurus was not something she needed to face. She went to his room, packing her back and making her way back out. He hadn’t moved, still sitting and staring ahead.

“Here,” she muttered, setting the necklace on the table in front of him. His head turned so he could stare at it. “I’ll miss you, Mycroft.”

“You can keep it.” He hoped she would. He hadn’t considered how much it would hurt to see her take the necklace off. Suddenly, the situation he was in felt real and his stomach was churning again. “It was a gift.”

“I don’t want it. It’s a reminder.” She heard a car pull up, making her way out the door. When she was home, she sat on her couch with a bottle of wine and cried freely. Her apartment now felt alien. Mycroft’s home had become her own the last couple of months. Weekdays were hectic, and she slept in her apartment, but she’d spend the weekend with him, hidden away from everyone else. She hadn’t found the words to tell him yet, but she was in love. Apparently, her feelings weren’t returned.

What Sarah didn’t know was that Mycroft had poured himself a drink and now sat in his office with the simple gold necklace held in his fist. Sherlock would tell Mycroft he was lonely, and Mycroft would deny it. He simply didn’t have a gage of what lonely felt like. After having Sarah, he did. The walls felt stifling, and he longed to hold her to his chest. She’d cried, and it was his fault. Last time had been accidental. This time, he knew how his words would impact her.

He did, however, get confirmation that what he had done was right that evening. His brother now knew they had a sister. The entire charade was what it took to draw the truth from him, and the next morning he did as John Watson suggested and went to 221B. He timed his trip carefully, waiting until ten minutes after Sarah would have left. What he did not expect was to run into her as she ran late. He stepped inside, looking up as her door closed. Her bag was slung over her shoulder, her dress was sloppier than it tended to be, and she’d forgone make-up, possibly due to the swelling that was obviously from crying.

Mycroft Holmes hated himself more in that moment than he ever had before.

“Mycroft?” she whispered, voice raw and low.

“Miss Garner,” he nodded, his determination to keep her as far away as possible strengthened after the events of the night before. A shaky breath escaped her as she shouldered past him to leave for work. Sarah found herself taking a cab rather than walking, trying her best to clean up the tears that had managed to escape. In her office fridge, there was an ice pack for when the knee she had injured in her teens acted up. She prayed she’d have time to hold it against her eyes. Like Mycroft, Sarah hated feeling weak. Unlike Mycroft, she wasn't able to stifle her emotions. Whatever she felt was always evident on her face.

That’s why she had to call in a substitute for class that afternoon when she got a call from Mrs. Hudson that 221B Baker Street had been the site of an explosion with both Holmes and John Watson upstairs. She didn’t have news for her yet, but Sarah went straight back.


	14. Chapter 14

Sarah wasn’t sure what was happening anymore as she sat in her office the next day. John and Sherlock had gone to some island, and supposedly, Mycroft was in the hospital. She appreciated knowing he was okay, but she also hated knowing he probably wasn’t. If Sherlock and John were okay, Mycroft was. Shaking her head, Sarah went back to grading. SHe wasn’t sure what it was, but she felt like she wasn’t alone in the room. Suddenly, she felt a prick in her neck, moving to rub it but freezing up when she felt something there. She pulled the small-- was that a dart?-- dart out and examined it. She turned to see someone was in the doorway as she felt herself getting tired.

When Sarah awoke, it was dark and she wasn’t alone. She heard John talking and assumed she was sitting in water. Jerking as she fully regained consciousness, she felt a weight on her ankle and moved to stand. It was dark and the walls were rough.

“John?” she called.

“Sarah?” he asked, voice thick with disbelief. “You’re dead.”

“I’m fairly sure I’m not.”

“We saw-”

“What did you see?”

“Doctored video, apparently.”

“John, what’s happening?” she asked, voice small.

“Eurus,” he said softly. “They have a sister. Sarah, she’s them but without the feelings or morals. She set up a game to test Sherlock. Choosing life and death. The game for Mycroft- he wouldn’t play. There was a video. You were in your office with a gun at your head. It went off and the video went blank.”

“I didn’t hear a gunshot. I felt something on my neck. It was like a teeny dart.”

“She knows Sherlock will save you and I.”

“John, you’re not mentioning him. Is Mycroft okay?”

“I-I don’t know. She was having Sherlock choose either Mycroft or me. Mycroft tried to get Sherlock to choose him. Sherlock saw through it and was going to shoot himself. We were all hit with the darts too.”

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know, but if what she’s planning follows form, Sherlock has to finish a puzzle to save us. Mycroft is missing. Maybe he has his own puzzle for you.”

“He broke up with me. So she may think she has both their pets, but she doesn’t.”

“He still loves you. Trust me.”

“Sherlock loves you,” she said, watching his faint smile as the moon shone down. She looked up at the newfound light.

“I hope,” he said as his gaze went up at the same time as hers.

“Well. John, this is a well.”

“We’re chained in the bottom of a well.” Sherlock was talking to John again, but Sarah couldn’t focus. No one was mentioning Mycroft. When the water started pouring in, finding out what happened to him was what kept her fighting. Sarah was not a swimmer, but she found a place in the walls to hold herself up. Her stomach ached as she considered that he might not be okay. That night after the event made sense now. There was a last time, and it led to this. There was another Holmes, and she did this.

He’d kept all of this secret; he hid something that he must have known could affect her. Was that why he ended things?

When they were out of the well, her heart was pounding. Lestrade kept trying to talk to her, but her head was swimming and all she could think about was seeing Mycroft’s face. She just shook her head, eyes welling up.

“Where is he?” she finally snapped.

“Eurus put him in her cell.”

“Where is he now?”

“Getting checked out.”

“I need to see him.” Lestrade tried to tell you know, but she began to repeat it like a mantra until they put her in a helicopter to go to the hospital. When she realized Mycroft was in a helicopter coming from Sherrinford, she fought every attempt to make her enter the hospital.

That found her waiting at the helipad, clad in the sweatpants and sweatshirt given to her by the police. Her arms were wrapped around her middle and the war between anger and relief was raging in her belly when she spotted a helicopter ready to come down. As it landed and she saw Mycroft again, she started to cry. When Mycroft saw her, he was in shock. He’d been told she was alive, but the reality of seeing her had him getting out of the helicopter and moving to hold her to him. She clung to his suit, crying into his chest, and Mycroft found himself noting this was the third time in as many days her tears were his fault. That made him bad, didn’t it? He’d truly ruined everything, but now she was here and warm and breathing and he knew that he couldn’t stay away. The idea she’d died hating him pained him deeply in ways he couldn’t find the words for. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. After thinking she was gone, he didn’t care who saw him bury his face in her hair as he cradled her against him. “I’m so, so sorry, Sarah.”

“I’m so mad at you,” she managed, still holding onto him. “But I’m also relieved.”

“We can talk about the anger later. I-I need your help to get through the rest of the day.”

“Mummy gets here tomorrow. We’re going to your house. My things are in the guest room already. Anthea scares me.”

“Sarah, I didn’t want to end things.”

“Not now,” she answered, voice harsher than she expected.


	15. Chapter 15

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I thought I could handle it.”

“That’s not how a relationship works, you idiot,” she answered more harshly than she intended.”We’re supposed to be a team. You’re supposed to trust me.”

“Sarah, I’m forty-six. I have operated alone for a long time.”

“You have to choose if you want to be in a relationship or ‘operate alone.’ I’m not only going to settle for part of a relationship.”

“And what exactly would telling you have done?”

“I might not have gone to work. I could have been more aware of my surroundings. I could have been in a state to help when I woke up at the bottom of a well. I could have been saved crying and spent time trying to help,” she rattled off, sitting up as she looked down at him. “In what way did this play out any better?”

Mycroft stayed quiet a while, looking up at her. She was right. God, did he hate to admit it, but she was right. They were standing in the living room and he stepped across the room, pulling to her. Her arms wrapped around his waist and he thanked whatever powers there were for the feeling.

“I’ll tell you the truth in the future, Sarah,” he nodded slightly. “And I do trust you. I want to shield you from everything. I’m not ready to tell you how I got the job of keeping Eurus where she is, but uncle Rudy began all of this. From the time I was fourteen, he made sure I knew caring wasn’t an advantage. And that has been incredibly difficult to move beyond because it’s always been right.”

“I-I don’t know if I trust you.”

“Are you willing to try?” he asked her, urging her to look up at him. “I will try to be better. I will have to relearn some long standing habits. But I will try.”

“I’ll try,” she nodded slightly, chewing her lip.

“Sarah, this is not easy for me to say, but I love you. I’m afraid of what that means, both for myself and for your safety.”

“I love you, too. That said, you’ve had two chances now, Mycroft. And this time you are starting from scratch. I’ll help you through the aftermath of all of this, but I will not just fall back into how we were.”

“Duly noted,” he murmured against her hair. “Just, please, stay here tonight. I’m afraid. I didn’t set all of this with Eurus up, but I will be the one dealing with the aftermath.”

“I’ll stay.”

“Come tomorrow?” he whispered, rubbing her back. “Sit with me until mummy and father get there.”

“Myc, I’ll be here for you. I love you. That part hasn’t changed. You just have to prove you won’t be keeping secrets from me.”

“I’ll tell you everything I can,” he promised, closing his eyes as they laid back again. The room was quiet as he remembered the last few days. Tentatively, he kissed her softly.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked softly, cupping his cheek.

“I was so scared,” he murmured. “It was all terrifying but then I thought you were gone. Sarah, we shouldn’t be together. I’ll inevitably put you in danger again.”

“Mycroft, I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t die, did I?” He drew a quick breath in and held her tighter. “That wasn’t real, remember?”

“It felt real. And my head was spinning, and it was so hard to imagine you died thinking I didn’t care for you. I hated myself, Sarah. I still do. I’m weak. I know caring does not make one think more rationally. That’s why I’m forty-six and unmarried. I chose to be alone. But you’re you and you seem to like my company, and I don’t think I’m capable of ending our relationship. But it doesn’t seem fair to you. Aside from danger, I can’t help but wonder if someone like the young man in your department would be better. He is most likely more adept when it comes to handling emotions. He isn’t an old man who works constantly and can’t devote his full attention to you most of the time. He wouldn’t be afraid to hold your hand because someone like Eurus might hurt you.”

Sarah smoothed her hand over his cheek. Maybe it was the events of the day with Eurus, but Mycroft wanted to share his feelings, something she wasn’t going to fight. She loved him. He knew that now, she hoped. Sarah was always independent. She usually had too many balls in the air as it is, and the fact that she could spend a large portion of her time with Mycroft working made things better. Did she wish they both had less going on? Yes. Would she trade being able to sit in the same room as him for a man who was gone less? Never.

“Mycroft, I don’t want the guy from my department. I don’t want someone younger. I want you. Caring does not make you weak. Denying how you feel does. Part of emotion is opening yourself to be hurt. And you know what? I like what I have with you. Emotion isn’t your strong suit, but I can see you trying. You’re my best friend. Trust is what we built this on, and while it may be broken right now, I do trust you enough to believe you will try to repair it. I don’t care how often you work. You always set Friday or Saturday evening aside. The effort you put forth to see me means more than I could ever say. It’ll be different now. But we’re a team, Mycroft. You and me. And you’re not even old. You’re forty-six. Seriously? Are we calling that old now, because if so, I love me an old man.”

“I think you’re ridiculous,” he murmured, the closest to crying Mycroft Holmes would ever come. “But I love you, too. And I’ll remember you’re my better half.”

“Damn straight,” she teased lightly, smoothing his hair back. He stepped to a small box on the mantle, taking out the necklace.

“Please wear it again,” he requested, lips in her hair. She nodded and he fastened it happily.

“I felt naked without it,” she chuckled softly.

“Do you know what this confirmed for me, more than anything?”

“What?”

“I’ve wasted too much of my time with you keeping up appearances. I’m going to kiss you in public more.”

“Please do,” she whispered, wrapping around him.


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning found Sarah up, dressed, and across from Mycroft in a cafe. She knew he was nervous. He kept adjusting his suit as though he ever had a hair out of place. She was clad in a dress she was grateful to have found in his laundry.

“Darling, it’s all going to be fine,” she said softly, reaching across the table to take his hand.

“Yes, well, one can hope,” he smiled tightly.

“Breathe.”

“It’s not exactly voluntary.”

“Neither is caring. You need to accept both. Mummy and father will learn to forgive you.”

“Again, one can hope.”

“One can know,” she said simply. “They’re your parents. If they want to see her, don’t stop them.”

“You’re quite the optimist,” he hummed, his breakfast being set before him. Sarah knew he was nervous because the diet went out the window. He ordered the biggest breakfast he could and she knew it would make him relax. She ate her own food, taking his hand rather than his arm as they made their way to his office at the Diogenes club. Once inside, she sat across from his desk as they waited for Sherlock to bring their parents in.

“Will you stay?” he asked, voice soft as he twisted the ring on his right hand. She knew now it was his uncle Rudy’s and a reminder to him it was his job now to protect the family. He’d told her the way Rudy had brought a teenager into all of this, and she understood now that ten years of assisting indoctrinated Mycroft into the life he led now.

“If you’d like me to,” she whispered, smiling softly. “We’re a team.” He gave her a gentle smile, and she moved to stand to the side as mummy and father Holmes came in.

“He’s not limited,” Sarah interjected as mummy expressed her contempt for the way the situation had been handled. “You forget he didn’t start all of this. Rudy did. He maintained it to save you pain.”

“She's our daughter,” mummy argued. “And you are not a part of this.”

“Your daughter made me part of this, Mrs. Holmes. I have the deepest respect for you both and Sherlock but I will not stand here and listen to you speaking to Mycroft like that.”

“And she is part of this family now, mummy. Just like John Watson.” He took Sarah’s hand in his, finishing his justifications as best he could. Mummy was furious, and Sarah could feel that some of it was now directed at her. She didn’t care. Each time Mycroft told his parents why he’d kept Eurus hidden, his grip on her hand tightened. They eventually left, storming out with Sherlock on their heels. Mycroft had given in, agreeing for the entire family to go visit Eurus. Sherlock would enter first, and then himself, mummy and father would sit to the side.

“Please come with us,” he’d whispered as soon as they were alone again.

“Mummy won’t like that.”

“You’re right. I just don’t want you out of my line of sight.”

“We’ll see, okay? See how she responds to the idea.”

“If you can’t, promise to stay with John and Rosie.”

“I will,” she whispered, moving to kiss him softly. “I’m sorry I interjected. She was insulting you and I couldn’t just-”

“It’s alright,” he nodded. “You are part of this family.”

“You really think of me as that permanent?”

“I do. I know you’re angry or I’d want you to move in.”

“If you don’t mind me keeping the apartment until I feel better, I’ll move in now. I don’t think I could sleep away from you.”

“Then I’ll clear space in the closet.”

She squeezed his fingers, letting go to sit across from him and grade papers until he was ready to leave. He was no less worried, she could tell. His brow furrowed and didn’t stop as he did paperwork and fielded calls. Lady Smallwood came by and she couldn’t help but feel victorious as she and Mycroft gave her the same tight smile. Eventually, he was finished and she only had a few more papers to grade.

“We didn’t have lunch,” she said, packing up her bag. “Should we get dinner?”

“That would be wise,” he agreed, leading her from the building. “Once things begin to blow over with this entire event, we’ll be having a dinner for those involved. Unfortunately, that will include Lady Smallwood. Fortunately, for you at least, it will include Sherlock, John, and Gregory.”

“Why are we doing that?”

“It’s polite. One of them had an issue, they threw a dinner to express gratitude. It’s a new cycle. Many of them kept what happened out of the news.”

“Can I hang all over you to piss Lady Smallwood off?”

“I’d prefer it. I told you, no more avoiding affection. We’ll be hosting it together, and I am ecstatic to show you off.”

“Then I can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading. Any feedback is appreciated!


	17. Chapter 17

“You’re sure mummy doesn’t mind me coming?” Sarah asked softly, smoothing her skirt again.

“She seems to understand you’re part of the family now,” Mycroft assured her. He didn’t bother to tell her that he had informed his mother that, no matter what she thought, Mycroft needed Sarah there. If Sarah wasn’t there, he wouldn’t, which meant no one else would. Sarah took his arm, leaning into him as they waited for Sherlock to bring their parents.

“I hope she doesn’t feel like I’m intruding.”

“You’re not. If nothing else, mummy needs to understand that I need you there. Sherlock seems to be handling it well. Mummy needs father by her and I need you.” 

“Careful, someone might think we’re in love,” she smiled softly. A car pulled up, and Sarah watched the other three Holmeses climb out. She could tell mummy didn’t want her there.

“Mummy,” Mycroft smiled softly, moving to hug his mother. She was tense, as was his father. It pained Sarah to see the hurt Mycroft tried to hide. He understood logically why his mother was hurt, but he’d sacrificed so much of his life to keep this secret. 

“They’ll lighten up once they realize why he did it,” Sherlock said, moving beside Sarah as she hugged him.

“I hope,” she smiled softly. “Did John and Rosie move in?”

“They did.”

“It’s a two bedroom, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he said, hands in his pockets.

“Did you finally figure it out?” Sherlock cleared his throat, looking to his feet.

“Father did say I needed to find myself someone to shut me up.”

“I’m happy for you. How is being a stepdad?”

“She’s fascinating. And brilliant.” Sarah smiled, rubbing his back as she moved to hug mummy.

“I’m glad to see you,” Sarah said, her voice soft.

“Yes, well,” mummy answered stiffly. “I am glad to see you, too.”

“Myc and I wanted to know if you’ll come over for dinner tonight. I know it will be a long day, but I thought dinner together may help.”

“It will take a lot more than that, but it’s a start,” she kissed Sarah’s temple. “You’re too good for him.”

“He’s too good for me,” she answered, hugging father before they all made their way to the helicopter that was awaiting them. Sarah sat beside Mycroft, hand in his. He was nervous, she could tell. There was a barely perceptible tapping of his foot. He was trying to be still, but she could feel the minor movement. She squeezed his fingers, looking up at him. His expression softened, squeezing hers in return. “It’ll be okay.”

Sherlock took his violin, and Mycroft let go of Sarah’s hand to follow him as he led the group to Eurus’s cell. Mummy, father, Mycroft, and Sarah all sat in a row against the wall as Sherlock played the violin with his sister. As she watched them, mummy Holmes’ eyes welled up. She’d greeted Eurus, trying to ask her questions. Quickly, she realized her efforts were moot. Her hand went to her son’s knee, and Mycroft dutifully held his mother’s hand, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and passing it to her. Sarah had one hand on Mycroft’s knee, her own shoulders tense.

Until now, Eurus was a person in the shadows, one who had somehow put Sarah in a well. Had Sherlock been any slower, Sarah and John would have drowned. Having never seen her, Sarah could pretend nothing had happened. Seeing her, Sarah found her heart beating faster and the reality setting in. What happened was not a dream, and it was orchestrated by the woman playing violin behind the glass. Mycroft knew this would be hard on Sarah, something confirmed by the tightening of her grip on his knee. Mummy and father tried again to speak to Eurus, but she didn’t acknowledge them. That final moment is when she saw the reality reach both mummy and father that Eurus was not going to just join in. If she spoke, it would be a long wait.

When it came time to leave, Sarah’s grip on Mycroft’s hand was tight. He rubbed her back, realizing she’d been so focused on helping him that he hadn’t taken the time to help her. He sat beside her on the helicopter, planning for Sherlock to take mummy and father to pick up John and Rosie while he and Sarah started dinner. Sarah needed the break.

“Sarah, what’s wrong?” he asked softly when they were inside his house again. He knew the general answer.

“She’s real. Didn’t have a face to what happened, so I could pretend it wasn’t real. Now it is real.”

“I’ll never let her hurt you again.”

“I know. I’m just processing. I guess I didn’t realize I almost died.”

“It can be hard. Do you think you need to talk to me or a therapist?”

“We’ll start with you,” she murmured, wrapping around him.

“I love you, darling,” he whispered into her hair.

“And I love you. We need to cook before mummy and father come back.”

“I think they like that you call them that.”

“I hope.” 

“Why don’t we have a nice glass of wine while the chicken cooks?” he offered, moving to the wine fridge. “We won’t have a moment alone until they go home.”

“Are you being romantic?”

“It’s a skill I’m trying to hone,” he said, kissing her forehead as he handed her an empty glass. Carefully, he poured her more than a glass before doing the same for himself.

“You do very well. I’m a lucky woman.”

“And I’m a fortunate man.” Placing the kitchen timer on the coffee table, he placed their glasses on the end table and pulled Sarah to sit close. Sarah drank her wine happily, free arm wrapped around him. She closed her eyes, the sound of a car in the driveway made her groan. 

“Why were they so quick?” she whined, hand smoothing over Mycroft’s hair. 

“I’ve no idea. I thought toddler’s ate up time.” Sarah let out a soft laugh, reluctantly going to the kitchen to check on the food with Mycroft following close behind. 

“Show time,” she teased, watching as Mummy, father, John, Sherlock, and Rosie all made their way inside. As soon as mummy reached the kitchen, she was checking the potatoes. 

“These are dry,” she chided Mycroft.

“Mummy, I made them,” Sarah laughed.

“Add cream,” she urged and Sarah obliged, catching the face Mycroft made over his shoulder as Rosie reached for the buttons of his coat.

“Yes mummy.”


	18. Chapter 18

Sarah was not used to having catered parties in her home. As Mycroft spoke with the caterers, Sarah found herself straightening the cushions on the couch. She hadn’t put her heels on yet, opting to set them in the kitchen. In order to match him, she’d found a blue wiggle dress that matched the color of his tie. His fondness for this style of dress on her didn’t hurt her choice. The first knock found darting to the kitchen to step into her heels. She adjusted her necklace, going to Mycroft’s side. She was thankful that a lot of the people coming in seemed to have had a drink before, and they also seemed a little more relaxed than Mycroft was in his natural state around other people.

As each guest arrived, Mycroft introduced her as his partner, something that made the butterflies in her stomach come to life. He wasn’t used to having a partner in these events, and perhaps his favorite part was seeing the faces of his colleagues as they realized Elizabeth hadn’t lied. The iceman was in love. Mycroft couldn’t help but watch the way Sarah handled herself as she greeted each guest. When Sherlock and John arrived, she wrapped them each in a hug, only leaving Mycroft’s side for a moment to see the latest pictures of Rosie.

When Lady Smallwood came in, Sarah greeted her sweetly before returning to Mycroft’s arm. Mycroft felt his chest swell as Sarah stayed close to him. He placed his hand lower than was appropriate on her back, conversing smoothly with Lady Smallwood. If there was one thing he had yet to adjust to when it came to their courtship, it was the way Sarah hung on him, especially when she thought someone might be expressing interest. The same part of him that felt immense pride at seeing a necklace he bought her on her neck felt proud to know a woman who looked like her was marking her claim on him.

When she felt she had sufficiently staked her claim, she kissed his cheek, going to mingle. Hosting these things was certainly easier with her around. It appeared she didn’t have to try as hard as he did, so he didn’t have to lead the conversation. He was more than capable, but it was exhausting. Once everyone had their drinks, Mycroft tapped his glass, giving a short speech. Sarah was tanding to his side, watching him with a broad smile. He was in his element and it made Sarah happy. She saw him at work, but this was different. There had been very few social situations they had experienced where he seemed fully comfortable. That first outing was for business, but he didn’t know what to do with a date. Now everyone was on his playing field and he was dazzling.

She took her opportunity to lead everyone to the dining room table, stepping past Lady Smallwood to take the seat beside Mycroft at the head of the table. Sherlock and John had already taken the other side, and Sarah was not one to step to the side. She’d been warned Lady Smallwood had sat by his side before she propositioned him and before Sarah had come into the picture. Despite it being clear Sarah was with Mycroft, the older woman still tried to fall into routine. Sarah sat beside him, smiling tightly at her.

“It’s going well, I think,” Mycroft said softly, his brows lifting in a way she’d come to realize meant that if they weren’t around his colleagues, he’d be grinning over at her.

“I agree,” she smiled, setting her napkin in her lap as the food was served. “Your speech was lovely.”

“Thank you. I had quite the writer tweak it for me.”

“Mhm, a lucky man, you are.”

“Can you two stop looking at each other like that?” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes as John swatted his leg under the table.

“Be careful or I’ll kiss him,” Sarah threatened and Sherlock grimaced. Sarah’s hand rested on Mycroft’s knee between courses, and once their guests were gone, she couldn’t have been happier. Caterers filled the dishwasher, and soon it was just the two of them.

“You were perfect, Sarah,” he smiled, pulling her against him.

“I’m glad you think so. I had this incredibly handsome date,” she hummed, smoothing his lapels.

“Yes? Well, he’s a lucky man,” Mycroft murmured, pressing kisses along her neck. His phone went off, and Sarah let out a whine. “I can ignore it. It’s not work.”

“Yeah?” she grinned, arms wrapping around him. The phone rang again and she sighed, pulling back. “Go check.”

“Oh for christ--” Mycroft mumbled, answering the phone. “Yes mummy?” Sarah let out a laugh, covering her mouth. He watched her, smiling softly. “Yes, the party is over... Sherlock really did stay... Sarah is here… Mummy, she lives here… We miss you too. We’ll see you next week when we visit Eurus… No mummy, I do love you. It’s just quite late… Sarah is already in bed. But, I’m sure she’d love to go to the botanical garden with you in a few weeks. I need to get some rest. I love you...Sleep well… Good night.”

“You’re a good son,” Sarah smiled softly, pulling him close again.

“Yes? Well, she just wanted to talk for a minute,” he said, smoothing his hands over her hips.

“And you answered.” She tugged him towards their room. “Now, how about we get a bath. You’ve got quite a large tub, and we haven’t taken advantage of it.”

“Whatever you want, darling Sarah.”


	19. Chapter 19

_ Pack your bag. The semester ended, and I managed a few days off and a few days working remotely. Sweaters would be a good idea. It will be cold. -MH _

_ Where are we going? -SG _

It’s a surprise. A getaway before we visit mummy and father for Christmas. -MH

Sarah smiled softly as she tucked her phone away. The last few weeks had been hard. She barely slept, and Mycroft didn’t sleep. The party had been fine, but they both found themselves worrying about the other. The event, as she and Mycroft had taken to referring to the night Eurus had orchestrated, had happened in February, throwing off the semester for Sarah, and ending the semester felt like the only way to get back to normal. This trip would also be their first trip in the six months they had been together, and she couldn’t help but be excited. She packed carefully, seeing his bag tucked inside the closet behind a section of his suits. She heard the car when it arrived, zipping her bag and setting it at the foot of the bed before rushing down to meet him at the door. 

“A vacation?” she beamed as soon as Mycroft walked in and he felt pride knowing that this had been the right choice. He’d never taken someone on a vacation, and the majority of his own travels had been tacked on to the end of work trips haphazardly. 

“Yes, darling. I will have to work remotely for two days, but the following five, I have warned them they are only to contact me if the country is falling.”

“Mycroft, this is so perfect.”

“You don’t even know where I’m taking you yet.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Bring your Wordsworth. We’re staying in a cottage in the lake district.”

“Myc,” she breathed, pulling him in and kissing him. “This is the most romantic plan you could’ve made.”

“The lake poets were romantics,” he joked lightly and she rolled her eyes. 

“You know exactly what I mean. Thank you Mycroft.”

“It’s already worth every effort to see you so happy, Sarah dear. Now, where is your bag. I’ll load the car. I’ll actually be driving us. We’ll get there just in time for dinner.”

Sarah was giddy as she helped him place both bags into the car. She also noted that while he’d packed a suit, he was wearing a sweater over his button down and no jacket. He was truly leaving work mode behind and she appreciated it in ways she couldn’t articulate. She’d come to understand that when in London or around the family, he did want to maintain every ounce of the professionalism his suits gave him. On the rare occasion he’d had a day at home with no threat of work, she’d seen him in slacks and a sweater. And that was the Mycroft taking her to the lakes. As they drove, Mycroft quickly realized that a vacation would mean photos. Sarah loved taking pictures, but he did not. It was something she never pushed, but now that they were going on a proper trip together, he supposed he could let her have her fun. The only pictures they had together were two his mother had managed to get, maybe three pictures he’d agreed to a waiter taking, and photos from galas and events for work.

“Did you take a picture of me driving?” he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“I did,” she smiled. “You just look so handsome.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he said fondly, reaching for her hand. 

“Just wanna have pictures to put in my office.”

“You put pictures in your office?”

“Don’t you?”

“I never quite saw the point.”

“I like seeing the people I care about at work.”

“I see you all the time.”

“I can’t check you out on CCTV so I have to settle for the frames on my shelf.” 

He nodded, almost understanding and Sarah made a mental note to frame something for his office. More realistically, she’d get Anthea to do it. The woman had seen the ever so slight shift in her boss and wanted to encourage it; she did have more personal time now, after all. Sarah settled in, their clasped hands on the armrest between them. The drive was quiet, but comfortable as the scenery went by.

“Dinner will be ready for us when we get there. I felt we’d probably just want to eat when we arrived.”

“A wise call,” she nodded, looking at the clock to realize they must be getting closer. “You did tell mummy we’d be gone, didn’t you? She’ll worry if you don’t answer.”

“Should I have?”

“I’ll take care of it,” she chuckled, sending mummy the picture of Mycroft driving.

_ Your son is whisking me away for a weekend. Just a warning if you can’t get a hold of us. -Sarah _

“You sent her the picture, didn’t you?”

“It’ll make her smile. She’s proud of you.”

_ Thanks for telling me. He looks relaxed for once. Make sure he stays that way. x mummy _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is enjoying!


	20. Chapter 20

“Did you just take another picture?” Mycroft asked, quirking a brow with a bag in each hand. And she had, a picture of the cottage with him standing in front of it. The sun hadn’t set yet, so the sky was a painting and you could still see the cottage and Mycroft.

“I did. Humor me this week?”

“Yes, darling,” he said, leading her inside and setting the bags by the door. “I hope you approve my choice.” Though he’d said it nonchalantly, Mycroft was actually worried she wouldn’t. It was small, but it was just the two of them. The sacrifice was worth it for the cottage to be this secluded with views of nothing but rolling hills and a lake within walking distance. They couldn’t walk to town, but it would only be a few minute’s drive to stock up on groceries.

“It’s perfect,” she grinned, hands resting on his sides once the door was closed behind them. “Just me and you. Middle of the country, near the lakes. I’m very happy.”

“I’m glad.” He led her to the kitchen where a stew simmered. The brief walk from the car to the door made him glad something warm had been waiting for them to eat. Sarah poured them each a drink, settling across from him. 

“I’ll run to the village and get groceries to last us while you’re working tomorrow,” she smiled. “Then I can settle in and read some Wordsworth.”

“There’s a window seat in the sitting room.” Mycroft was content in a way he hadn’t realized he ever could be. Usually, not being near work and Sherlock had him afraid. Now, he was content to be wrapped in a sweater in a little cottage with Sarah. He’d brought the little box he’d been carrying with him for the last month. It held an antique ring, and for once, Mycroft didn’t know what would happen. Maybe he’d ask her to marry him at the lake. Maybe it would be in five years as they took a trip to Venice. The only thing that was certain was he never planned to live without her. A thought had crossed his mind he couldn’t ignore; the only thing better than Sarah Garner had to be Sarah  _ Holmes _ . Sherlock and John and Lestrade and his parents had all talked about the fact he’d marry Sarah one day, but he knew six months was faster than most would propose. That said, they’d endured some on the most difficult tests within weeks. After Eurus, she came to live with him. She’d made a comment in passing, asking him to promise they’d have a small wedding , and now marriage was all he could consider. 

“Then I’ll get the two best views. Those fields, and you.” Mycroft made a noise, and Sarah felt proud to see the red tinge traveling from his ears over the back of his neck. It never failed to make her feel proud when she made him blush. The next morning found them tangled together, Sarah having pulled the second duvet from the closet over them because she didn’t want to unpack their pajamas or pick up the trail of clothes from the kitchen to the bed. Mycroft had made the decision to wake when the sun woke them, work be damned. If he lost an hour, England would survive. The sun filtered in the window and Mycroft admired the way it looked over Sarah’s face. He slipped into the kitchen, having included the makings of an English breakfast with the call that had stew simmering on the stove when they arrived. He put the kettle on and began cooking. 

When Sarah woke, Mycroft was already pouring tea to steap. She slipped his sweater from the day before over her frame, making her way to the kitchen. He hadn’t seen her yet, and she leaned against the doorframe. It was different to see him in the rustic little kitchen. Domesticity had taken its own time to adjust to. At home, he also only went to the kitchen in his suits or work out clothes. Without Louise there, he was clad in only a robe. He added sugar to her tea, pouring the slightest amount of milk. 

“You’re staring,” he chided with a soft smile.

“Can’t help myself. Got a handsome man cooking me breakfast.”

“You better go to him then.”

“Gladly,” she grinned, stepping to his side and wrapping around him. She thanked him softly before kissing him. Taking the warm mug gladly, she leaned against the counter. “It’s almost eight o’clock.”

“The country will make it if I don’t check my email until nine.”

“You usually check it at six.”

“And they will survive. I have a woman to have breakfast with.” Sarah settled close to him as they started to eat. Louise cooked on weekdays, and they ate out on the weekends. Visits from mummy and Sarah planning for it had found them cooking on occasion, but it was rare. They ate together in a happy silence, Mycroft kissing the top of her head before he went to get dressed. She followed behind him after a minute, going into the bathroom and running the bath. She heard Mycroft start working and after she’d watched the view of the mountains from the bath for a while, she dried off, bundling up in a swear and coat. 

“Myc, I’m heading to get groceries,” she said softly, Mycroft nodding. He must’ve been in a video meeting, having put on his usual suit and settling in the plainest part of the wall. He gave an almost imperceptible smile, and she blew him a kiss before making her way into town. It was a couple hours before she returned, but she’d picked up something to eat for lunch. She placed it in the warmer, unpacking and proud of her timing when she heard him say his goodbyes.

“You’re back,” he said, hand going to her back when he came in. 

“I am. And I got pie and mash to split and a massive cheese board.”

“You’re good to me.”

“Damn right,” she grinned. He chuckled, helping her tote the food, settling it on the table and the pair settled in to eat on the couch. 

“I have plans for our first day that I don’t have to work.”

“Oh?” she hummed, leaning into him.

“Dove Cottage is near.”

“You’re kidding?” Her eyes lit up and Mycroft decided the ring would be needed as they walked Wordsworth’s family home. 

“I’m not. We can visit and a museum has been put beside it. We can walk the gardens.”

“You’re going to spoil me.”

“That’s the goal, darling.”


	21. Chapter 21

Thursday and Friday passed. Saturday was the first of five days the government had been told not to contact Mycroft unless the country fell. As they sat against each other on the bench in the sun and drank tea, Mycroft could feel nerves building. Today was the day he intended to propose. He’d have been fine waiting, but they’d be on the lake and at the Wordsworth museum, and it felt right after the past two days. Sarah knew something was up, but she assumed there was an extra stop. When they dressed, she was surprised to see him in a thick sweater and slacks, finding he looked like he was on vacation.

“Are you ready?” he asked, acutely aware of the slim box in his pocket. 

“Ready,” she nodded, and he took her hand. They drove, Mycroft’s hand on hers. Once they were parked in Grasmere, he took his phone out. His nerves were high, so he texted the only person he could count on to tell him things would go well.

_ I’m asking Sarah to marry me today. -MH _

“We have time for a drink before our tour,” he said lightly, seeing the sign. Sarah started pulling him towards the shop. 

“We’re doing a tour?”

A Wordsworth tour,” he corrected.

“Guess that means we gotta try it. We’ll need energy.” He watched as she pulled him, thinking he would be content to follow her until he died. There was a park nearby, and he resolved to propose before the tour. There would be a guide through the tour and he wasn’t sure he could feel the box against his thigh the entire day.

_ She’s going to say yes. If it feels right, it’s right. xx Mummy _

Another notification.

_ If I don’t get a picture after, I will never speak to you again. xx Mummy _

He didn’t laugh-that would mean showing Sarah and then he wouldn’t be able to surprise her. Waiting also ran the risk of calls from mummy, he told himself as though it wasn’t simply that Mycroft Holmes had made up his mind and the longer he waited, the more he could convince himself he was ruining her life. 

“Do you want coffee or tea?” she asked when they were at the counter.

“Tea,” he said, smiling as she ordered it and requested the cream and sugar to ready it for him herself. When she had her coffee, they opted for the table to the front of the building. 

“This is so exciting,” Sarah beamed. “I reread all the poems he wrote while he lived in Dove Cottage.”

“We’ll be going there. And the church he attended. His landlord’s home. Some stops are on other lake poets as well.”

“I’m lucky to have you.” 

“And I’m lucky to have you, dear Sarah.” He took a deep breath. Sarah could tell something was different, but only because she knew him as well as she did. Sherlock would notice, but mummy wouldn’t. That was the scale Sarah found herself using.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, voice sincere as he took her hands. His heard was pounding and he hated the way emotion made him feel. Caring meant he set himself up for hurt. What was he going to do for the next few days if she said no? Would a not now be worse? Would she leave him for proposing too soon if she wasn’t ready? What if--

“Myc, stop overthinking.” He laughed, more openly than he tended to. Of course she knew. 

“Only you are able to notice when I’m doing that,” he said softly, taking one hand to get the small box, keeping it on his lap. “This trip has confirmed something for me already, Sarah. I want you in my life forever. It’s selfish. If anything happens to you, it will be my fault.”

“Myc, we covered-”

“I know. You’ve accepted it. Because for whatever reason, you’re okay with being with a man who is far too devoted to work, far too serious, and far from good enough for you.”

He put the box on the table, opening it so the ring was visible. Sarah’s heart was pounding in her ears, tears already falling as she covered her mouth. 

“Will you do me the enormous honor of being my bride?”

“Mycroft,” she whispered, a broad smile on her face. Though she was smiling, her tears and lack of affirmation had him panicking. What if she was trying to find the words to say no? What if she thought it was funny to see him so vulnerable when her answer was no.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Myc. Of course.” He practically slumped forward, fumbling as he put the ring on her finger in a rare moment of clumsiness. She scooted across the rounded bench, wrapping him in a tight embrace and kissing him with her hands cupping his cheeks. His fingers gripped the sides of her winter coat, smiling just as openly as he’d laughed when they pulled apart. He hadn’t noticed anyone else in his tunnelvision, and heard the family at the neighboring table clapping. 

“Congratulations, loves,” a squat older woman said, smiling broadly at the duo. Mycroft suddenly felt deeply embarrassed to have been seen in the state he’d been in. If they’d been in London, he’d have forced her to stand, putting them into a car.

“Thank you,” Sarah beamed, arms still wrapped around Mycroft’s middle. 

“I made my son take pictures for you two,” she said, leaning forward. “My daughter wishes she had pictures of her proposal. We can send them to you.”

Mycroft had never hated cell phones, but he did now. Sarah would love having the pictures. Soon enough there would be a frame in their home and his parents’, he knew. He hated knowing that he was probably pale, probably looking fat in his thick winter coat, probably sweating as he prayed to a god he didn’t believe in she’d say yes. Her phone buzzed three times in quick succession, and the older woman hugged Sarah, saying something to him before they left. 

“Earth to Myc?” she chuckled. She knew that proposing would’ve been one of the most difficult things he could do. Sarah could have hurt him. Mycroft Holmes had not been in that position often.

“Sorry,” he said softly, arm around her. “I just was thinking.”

“About anything in particular?”

“The fact I get to marry you.” Sarah grinned, kissing him again. 

“Have you been planning this the entire time?”

“I bought the ring weeks ago. I’ve been waiting until the moment was right. It was right.”

“How’d you know?”

“Being in the country with you agrees with me. I thought about sitting in a cottage with you after we retire. I also realized Sarah Holmes pleases the ear.”

“You’re a sap,” she said softly. 

“I prefer a romantic,” he smiled, brushing her hair from her face. Suddenly, pictures of him feeling vulnerable was worth it. “Mummy knows I planned to ask today. If we don’t send one of those pictures to her, she’ll find us.”

“God forbid. I have plans to celebrate with you tonight,” she teased, sending the picture to mummy. “We don’t need your mother here.”


	22. Chapter 22

“When do the pair of you get home?” Mummy’s voice was loud after a night of celebrating their engagement. Mycroft looked up from where he was cooking eggs, seeing mummy and daddy’s faces crammed into Sarah’s screen, sighing lightly. 

“Five more days in the country. We return Wednesday, and you and father can come Friday.”

“We’d love to have you both,” Sarah said brightly. She knew their visits were not Mycroft’s favorites, but this mattered. 

“We’ll be there Thursday.” She could see Mycroft trying not to scoff, her hand on the small of his back as she put him into the frame. 

“I can’t wait, mummy. I’ll take you two out sightseeing and then Myc will meet us for tea.” Mycroft lifted a brow, looking at her seriously. 

“Oh goody!” mummy beamed. “Will you go on the eye with us? Mycroft and Sherlock never do.”   
“Of course mummy.” 

“Breakfast is ready,” Mycroft said softly. 

“You two go enjoy yourselves,” father said, chuckling. “Let them be Violet.” They said their goodbyes and Mycroft relaxed. 

“I can’t guarantee I will make it to tea, Sarah. Don’t tell her that.”

“I’ll text Anthea. She’s the one setting up your first day back.”

“Yes, dear,” he said, settling himself at the table. He was becoming overwhelmed by the fuss that came around the engagement. Maybe he should’ve taken her to the courthouse instead and gotten the entire matter done with. As much as he pined for the process to be done, Sarah had curled up to his side the night before, playing with his fingers as she mused on ideas for the wedding. She didn’t have any idea of them having a massive affair, wanting to keep it to their families and closest friends and colleagues. But the way she talked about dresses and flowers and first dances, he knew the actual wedding was something he couldn’t deprive her of, even if the whole event seemed silly to him. It would be worth it, however, to see the way she lights up.

“We’ve had to go to a lot of fancy engagement parties. Are we expected to have one?”

“We are,” he said, realizing it as he spoke. The wedding would be for mummy and Sarah, but the engagement was something that would be expected by his peers and he hoped would counteract the fact you couldn’t do a single thing to convince Mycroft Holmes to invite all of his colleagues. They were his social circle, and it would save them a headache later.

“Mummy will love it.”

“You won’t?”

“I get it. When someone has an engagement party they can get out of inviting certain people to the wedding. But we have to invite Lady Smallwood don’t we?”

“We do. Also, that blasted Justin fellow from your work.”

“Are there other women propositioning you I should be prepared for?”

“None that would be invited. Any other professors trailing after you?”

“None,” she chuckled, eating a runny egg happily. 

“Good. I’ll only have to intimidate one.”

“He ain’t got a chance.”

The rest of the trip was the pair of them, refusing to leave the cottage except for the occasional walk. Mycroft begrudgingly accepted the fact she wanted to get pictures of him and of the pair of them together. They went into town for dinner on their last night, and the waiter took a picture for her. When he saw it, he softened. Mycroft hated to see pictures of himself. Years and years of weight struggles started it, but the pictures he’d seen of himself since slimming down found him noticing his age, his seriousness, his tenseness. When he saw the pictures the waiter had taken, he saw the same tense Mycroft, but he softened when he saw the way Sarah was looking at him. The next showed him, more relaxed as they looked at each other. He liked that picture of himself, most likely because of the way she looked at him. 

“I think I’d like a copy of this picture,” he said casually, smiling. 

“I’ll get one printed for you. Thank you for putting up with all my picture taking.”

“Anything for you, darling.” 


	23. Chapter 23

When they returned to London, it was the afternoon, so Sarah convinced Mycroft to stop at Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson looked surprised to see them. Since moving out, Sarah and Mycroft rarely found themselves there at the same time. She invited them in, starting tea. The couple sat at her table, and when Mrs. Hudson handed her a mug, her eyes went wide as she noticed the glint of a ring. 

“A wedding?” she asked softly, gaze drifting to Mycroft. Sarah knew the older woman didn’t trust him. She’d heard enough about Mycroft from Mrs. Hudson before their breakups. Seeing Sarah cry as she had confirmed Mrs. Hudson hated Mycroft. And then there was the aftermath of Eurus. 

“A wedding,” Sarah smiled, reaching over and taking his hand. Mycroft considered himself a part of the Baker Street family, but between Mary’s death and Eurus, he’d realized Mrs. Hudson didn’t feel the same. 

“Are you sure?” Sarah just stared at her.

The distrust in her voice cut Mycroft deeply. He had his faults he knew, but he hated the reminder that many of the people in her life looked at him and thought this shouldn’t be happening. This wasn’t just due to his actions. She was young, vibrant, and energetic. Mycroft was middle aged, traditional, and quiet. 

“Mrs. Hudson, I am aware that our relationship has been strained at best,” Mycroft said slowly. “You’ve no reason to believe me, but Sarah has changed me fundamentally. Please know I will show it.”

“How’d you do it?”

“We went to the lake district. I had the ring and was waiting until it was right. Sarah loved her lake poets, so I scheduled a tour of Wordsworth’s family home and traced his life. We were at a coffee shop before.”

“That is more romantic than I would expect from you.”

“It was perfect,” Sarah said, looking over at him. “Want to see pictures?” 

Mrs. Hudson nodded, and Sarah scooted beside her. She narrated each, the picture driving, one from the next day while they ate lunch, one of him cooking dinner, the proposal, pictures from the walks and the pub and the views. He looked relaxed in each, and Mrs. Hudson was shocked to see Mycroft Holmes in the thick cable knit sweater. She knew Sarah knitted on occasion and found herself wondering if this was one she’d made. Something about that prospect made it seem all the more foreign. 

“You can marry her,” Mrs. Hudson said softly when she saw the way Mycroft looked at Sarah as she showed off their vacation pictures. She’d expected annoyance. Mycroft of six months ago would be furious or mortified, leaving immediately. Mycroft of today didn’t seem to mind Mrs. Hudson seeing a picture Sarah had taken of them where he wore a gentle smile and hand an arm firmly around his bride to be’s waist. “Nearly losing someone changes a lot, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he said plainly. “I will never waste the time I have with her again.”

“If you do, I’ll end you.” The finality with which she said it meant Mycroft didn’t doubt her words. As kind of an old woman as she was, he knew her backstory, just like he knew the backstory of everyone in his brother’s life.

“As you should.” Mrs. Hudson nodded tightly. 

“Are you two off to tell the boys?”

“I suspect mummy is unable to keep a secret, but yes,” Mycroft said, standing to adjust his coat. “And then we must prepare. My parents will be in town tomorrow.  _ Someone _ invited them.”

“They’re excited, Myc. It’s only a couple of days.”

“It will be hard to get mummy to go home when she could be wedding planning.” 

“I won’t be planning anything without your input.” Did Mycroft have many opinions of the flowers or colors or place settings? No. Did it cause a warmth to spread through his chest to think about going to cake tastings or meeting with florists? Certainly. Mrs. Hudson hugged Sarah, rubbing Mycroft’s back affectionately as he walked out. 

“Why are you here?” Sherlock asked as they entered the upstairs flat.

“They just got engaged?” John said, moving to hug Sarah before clapping a hand onto Mycroft’s shoulder. “Congratulations.”

“Besides, your brother missed you,” Sarah added, grinning back at him.

“I’ve seen him plenty,” Mycroft lied, hand on his umbrella as he stood by the door.

“Oh shut up, both of you,” John groaned. “Sherlock missed him too.”

“See! I told you Myc!”

“I did not! I merely noted he hadn’t dropped by for whatever reason. It’s at least a biweekly occurrence, and it’s been three weeks.”

“And it’s a biweekly occurrence you missed,” John teased.

“And one Mycroft missed. He mentioned meetings were keeping him from it.”

“More like cakes. He’s gained weight,” Sherlock groused, dropping beside John on the couch.

“I like him with a little extra weight. It’s hot,” Sarah grinned, winking at Mycroft.

“That’s a lie,” Sherlock said simply.

“I have data you most likely don’t want to hear that says she isn’t lying,” Mycroft hummed, a slight smirking taking over his features. “Is frequency of intercourse something I need to update you on now?”

“John, stop him,” Sherlock groaned.

“Intercourse with Mycroft is Sarah’s job,” he said, hands up.

“Best job ever,” she grinned crookedly as she picked up her niece. “Let’s be real, we’re here for Rosie.”

“Fair,” Sherlock nodded. “She’s fascinating.”

Mycroft sat in the seat opposite Sarah, adjusting his waistcoat self consciously. Sarah glared at Sherlock as she noted Mycroft was uncomfortable. As she caught John up on everything that had happened, Sherlock paying more attention than he’d admit and Mycroft delighting in how happy the trip and engagement had made her, Rosie wiggled from Sarah’s arms and made her way to Mycroft. He observed her as she stuck her arms up, looking at him expectantly. Sherlock wasn’t her biological parent, but the face the little girl made reminded him so much of his brother. He acquiesced after she let out a soft request of “up,” setting the girl on his knee. 

Sherlock observed them, eyes narrowing. Sherlock had a tendency to forget how much of Mycroft’s childhood was spent babysitting and helping to raise him. That meant that Sherlock did not trust his brother with Rosie, now considered his own daughter after a long talk with John. Sarah and John were engrossed in a play by play of the trip and engagement, and Mycroft let Rosie lay against his chest. Sarah was only pulled away from her conversation when she heard Mycroft speaking to Rosie. The little girl was babbling, looking to Mycroft expectantly. It brought him back to the way it sometimes seemed Sherlock’s mind was able to form thoughts he wanted to say before he had the language skills. 

“You don’t say?” Mycroft asked seriously when she paused, and Rosie continued. “Oh my...Yes, that is true...Fascinating, Rosie.”


	24. Chapter 24

“You’re really good with babies,” Sarah smiled softly as he drove them home.

“I took care of Sherlock and Eurus most of the time. Mummy and daddy were busy quite often. And then Sherlock was always attached to me,” he said, their fingers laced as they went through the heart of the city. “I did my best for those two.”

“I’m proud of you.” The words stopped Mycroft’s thoughts. No one had really said that to him before other than his father. Mummy, for all she claimed his siblings weren’t his responsibility, seemed to consider it his fault whenever Sherlock acted out. Whenever Sherlock overdosed. Whenever Sherlock nearly died. Rudy had made it official, but Mycroft had been raised to be his brother’s keeper. 

“You shouldn’t be.” He couldn’t stop the words as they came out; Sarah had that effect on him. “I was supposed to be watching them both. Look at what happened to Eurus. And if I didn’t watch Sherlock as I do, he’d be dead long ago.”

“Eurus’s sociopathy is not your fault, Myc. You were twenty-two when your brother started using. You were not meant to be raising a teenager. Violet and Siger were the ones raising him. They are his parents, not you.”

“It’s why I’m not to be a father,” Mycroft said simply. The subject had come up in the past, and Sarah was allowing it to bubble beneath the surface. She was spending her time trying to weigh if the family she’d imagined one day could be complete without children. For her, Mycroft was who she was meant to marry. The idea of having children was something she was mourning, but not because the idea of a childless life with Mycroft was unappealing. She’d just assumed that was part of her life for so long. 

“You’d be an amazing father, Myc. You’re an adult now, and you would know the signs. At twelve, you wouldn’t know the signs for sociopathy. At twenty-two, you wouldn’t be able to get Sherlock help. You’d know better now.”

He knew that she was right. The idea of fatherhood was something he’d wrestled with since the first time he’d seen Sarah cradle Rosie to her chest. In an instant, he’d imagined a year. Sarah pregnant, a hand on her belly. Laying beside her late at night and feeling their child kick. Cradling a little redhead that had his eyes but Sarah’s smile. It was something he craved, but the picture was immediately ruined by the idea of a little redhead growing up to mutilate their body how it worked or overdosing for the first time at sixteen, found by their mother in the living room unresponsive. He was finally in the position to protect Mummy and father and Sherlock and Eurus and John and Rosie and Sarah. Having a child could ruin that.

“Perhaps. But sociopathy has genetic factors, as does addiction. My genetics need not be passed on.” 

“I think the environmental factors could outweigh the genetic. But you’re allowed to feel the way you do.”

“You’re certain you can be happy without children?”

“I’m not. But I am certain I cannot be as happy with another man as I am you. I have to mourn the idea in my head I had, but lots of things aren’t how I used to imagine. Believe it or not, I used to want to be a homemaker.”

“You’d drive yourself up the wall.”

“Exactly. I have to redirect.”

“If ever there is a time you cannot sacrifice children, I will never hold you doing what makes you happiest against you,” he said slowly, almost as though he was tasting the words as they came out. He hated what they implied,  _ Leave me if you’re ever unhappy _ , but he hated the idea of Sarah ever resenting him. Sherlock always said he had OCD, but he simply had a problem with control. He could control his surroundings, control how he responded to new people, control the influences around those he cared for. With Sarah, as with children, he couldn’t control them. It would be unfair.

“I know, Mycroft. And if you’re ever unhappy with me, I want you to leave. Never because you decide it’s safest, mind you. But I want you happy first.”

“Make me one promise?”

“What?”

“If you ever leave, promise to have dinner with me regularly? Even if you marry some man I despise and have a whole brood of children. I can live without you as my partner if that is what makes you happiest, but to lose you entirely would ruin me.”

“I promise you, Mycroft,” she whispered, brushing her lips over his knuckles. 

He wasn’t prone to vulnerability, but ever since they drove from London, some final barrier had broken down. He’d told her stories from his childhood, even the painful ones including Eurus. It was rare he told her much that happened before his teenage years because those times were pre-Sherlock and included an undercurrent of danger from his sister. He’d shared that his weight had impacted his confidence, making him a late bloomer who didn’t go on a date or kiss someone until it melted off in graduate school. He’d shared the guilt he experienced when the reality of Sherlock’s addiction set in as his mother called him at three in the morning after finding him unresponsive when she went to fetch his father a glass of water. More than she ever had, Sarah realized his callousness and suits were weaponized to cover immense insecurity and fear of failing the few he did care for.

“I’ll do the same,” he promised her, squeezing her hand three times. It was a habit he’d picked up at the events they’d attended together. When he’d want to be affectionate or smile or thank her for deflecting some personal question, he’d squeeze her hand three times because he’d rather die than let his colleagues hear the emotion in his voice as he said I love you. Emotion could be weaponized in his position. He wasn’t stupid, so he knew that each person in the room could look at the pair and know he was in too deep to ever come out. But they’d never heard him say it. Never heard his voice change or seen him smile.

“I’d appreciate that,” she smiled warmly, squeezing his in return. “I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

“Being honest with me.” His brow furrowed, trying to think of a time he’d lied to her when not trying to protect her. Sarah chuckled, able to read him easily as she always seemed able to do now. “You don’t lie to me. You just don’t like to feel vulnerable. And you’ve shared so much with me this week.”

“Ah,” he nodded tightly. “I have just finally realized it won’t make you leave to know.”

“I already knew about your siblings.”

“Not them. That I’m ever- that I don’t feel adequate.”

“You’re more than adequate, Myc.” He rolled his eyes, looking over at her as they parked. 

“Such sweet nothings.”

“You’re perfect.”

“Far from it, darling. You, on the other hand, are simply exquisite.”


	25. Chapter 25

Sarah watched Mycroft fastening his cufflinks, still curled up under their blankets. She’d grab a robe when he went downstairs to see Louise and have breakfast. The housekeeper would be tickled that they were engaged, Sarah knew. The older woman had worked for Mycroft long enough that, despite his efforts to pretend otherwise, she was who he went to for advice. She’d approved him buying her flowers, jewelry before the event, and even an engagement ring. 

“You’re hot,” she grinned, and Mycroft rolled his eyes.

“I am very grateful you think so.” She got up, stretching before she wrapped a thick robe around her frame. 

“Stop qualifying it,” she hummed, kissing his cheek. “Other women think you’re hot too.”

“Well, I am only marrying one woman, so the opinions of others seem irrelevant.”

“Touche,” she grinned as they made their way downstairs. 

The moment Louise saw them, her eyes went to check Sarah’s hand. Mycroft had pretended it could be months or years before he used it, but the moment she heard he’d planned a trip with her and told work not to call, she knew.

“The man actually did it!” Louise cooed, tugging Sarah into a hug. “I’m guessing we welcome Violet and Siger tonight?”

“He did,” the younger woman said, accepting the hug gladly. “You helped him right. And we are.”

“Much to your betrothed’s dismay, I expect.”

“Of course. You know how he is when his routine is disrupted.”

“Should I leave the room?” Mycroft asked, voice more playful than his serious look. 

“Get over here, you,” Louise, beamed, hugging him. He’d accepted the affection at this point. Louise had worried over him since the first day of her employment, telling him he needed to make friends or find someone. He’d never admit that after the first year, he’d added her to the list to be monitored. He hugged her back awkwardly, looking to Sarah. He understood people would be happy for them, but everyone’s insistence on hugging him was foreign. “I told you that you loved her.”

After Sarah’s first nights at his home, Louise had pulled him aside, hands on her hips as she told him he better not bugger it up with the redhead because she seemed more than willing to put up with him. He’d told her she was ridiculous, but now they stood in what used to be a cold, formal home and he realized she, like his brother, had been right. Mycroft Holmes had always been lonely. He just had nothing to compare it to before.

“I do. Very much so.”

“Congratulations, you two,” she said, kissing each of their cheeks. 

“Thank you,” Sarah beamed, looking up at him as he said the same. Mycroft was gone to work soon enough, Sarah having texted Anthea again to ensure he’d be at tea that afternoon. Anthea promised, even if she had to convince him the car would take him to a meeting at the Diogenes Club. Louise helped her make up the guest room just as Sarah heard the slamming of the Violet and Siger’s car doors. Sherlock would be busy assisting Greg during the day, and since the case didn’t require help, John had agreed they could pick up he and Rosie. Little did Sherlock know, Lestrade would be bringing him to tea. The Holmes boys had been tricked into a family outing, and Sarah and John were prouder than they should’ve been. 

“Sarah?” Mummy called through the house, keeping up her habit of not knocking whenever she arrived. Sarah slipped her shoes on before hurrying down the stairs, smiling as she saw Louise had left a tray out for her to serve to Violet and Siger.

“Mummy!” she smiled, laughing as mummy grabbed her hand, examining the ring. It was an art deco ring that she now knew had been purchased from the same shop as the other jewelry he’d given her. A sparkling center stone was flanked by baguette stones and a delicate detailing around them. Mummy giggled, something that Sarah hadn’t heard in a long time.

“It’s stunning! Who knew Mycroft was such a jewelry shopper,” she’d teased. Sarah bit her tongue, knowing it was meant to be a compliment but wanting to remind her of all the jewelry Mycroft had gifted his mother with.

“He did an amazing job.” Siger hugged her, kissing her temple. “We are so pleased you two are getting married. You’re good for him, Sarah. Take care of my boy. He doesn’t seem it, but he’s delicate.”

“I know,” she said softly, seeing mummy’s disagreement on her face. Sherlock, Violet, and Mycroft all had the same intelligence, but none of the three seemed to have the same emotional intelligence. Siger understood that his eldest child was more sentimental than his brother. He’d seen it in the way he monitored Sherlock.

“John and I thought he and Rosie ought to join us.”

“We get to spend a day with our grandchild?” Mummy lit up, hand going to her husband’s arm Siger was watching her with a warm smile and realized Mycroft may be more like his father than she thought.

“You do,” she nodded, laughing. “She hasn’t been to the children’s museum yet.” Mummy took the tray of sandwiches, marching back outside as Siger and Sarah watched her. 

“Call the car, I guess,” Siger chuckled. 

“I’m sure your son already has. Or whoever he has watching us did. It’s spooky sometimes, but very convenient.”

“I’m glad you’re willing to find it endearing.” 

“Believe it or not, I kind of like your son. Makes you get used to a lot of things.”

As if on cue, a black car drove up. 


	26. Chapter 26

“Hello John,” Mummy smiled, managing to pretend she really cared to see him. “Where’s Rosie?” John was used to it, acutely aware that his daughter was about to spend her first day with doting grandparents, and it made him smile to see the way their life had changed. 

“Playing with her blocks,” he chuckled, Siger hugging him.

“You know how she is.”

“She never thought Sherlock would lead to a grandchild. I know. How have you been?”

“Splendid. The boys seem to finally be under control.”

“We work hard to make sure,” Sarah laughed, joining the pair. “Myc is really cute with her. Knows what to do, but looks at her like an alien.”

“Only children he’s encountered before are his siblings. They think we’re the aliens,” Siger mused, making his way over. 

“We’re old news,” John grinned. 

“Oh of course,” she laughed. “What will be funny is Sherlock refusing to share her at tea.”

“He’ll take her from Violet. Mrs. Hudson even loses Rosie rights when he gets home.”

“We probably ought to get them to the car. Otherwise, the boys will get to tea and we won’t be there.”

“Correct. A recipe for disaster,” he agreed, unable to hide a smile as Violet refused to let him take Rosie to the waiting car. Siger kept a hand on her back, and they both settled her into the car seat the driver had set up. Sarah and John climbed into the furthest seats, ensuring mummy could stay close to Rosie. When they arrived at the museum, John was mildly jealous to not take Rosie through exhibits, but he had to remind himself that he got all the other firsts. Though it wasn’t talked about, it seemed likely Mycroft didn’t want children. Maybe Sarah had changed that, but John knew the reality was Rosie may be the only grandchild Siger and Violet ever got. He could sacrifice leading her through the dinosaur exhibit she wouldn’t remember a week from now to see the pure joy it brought Violet and Siger. John and Sarah ended up standing to the side of each exhibit, snapping pictures and keeping track of the time. Mycroft must have been successfully convinced he was being whisked off to a meeting. Sarah received a call just as they were making their way down the sidewalk to the afternoon tea she’d found.

“Darling, I won’t make it,” he said, and Sarah almost felt bad at how relieved he sounded. “I have so much to catch up on, and Anthea has just put me into a car for a meeting at the Diogenes Club.”

“Damnit,” she’d said, feigning disappointment. He must’ve refused tea, convincing Anthea he had far too much to catch up on. She also knew that meant he’d refused lunch and the fact he was on the phone meant he hadn’t noticed they weren’t going where he expected. 

“I know darling. I’ll make it up to-” He stopped, and she could almost see realization hit him as the car pulled up to the section of sidewalk the family was waiting at. His voice was full of indignation as he gasped, “ _ Sarah _ .”

“Love you,” she sang as he stepped out, umbrella in hand and a stern look on his face. He came over, kissing her softly and holding her forearms as he looked down at her.

“I have so much to catch up on darling, I was trying.”

“And you skipped lunch in order to work more, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed. Once again, Sarah knew him too well and for whatever reason worried about him. 

“Correct. Sometimes I must.”

“Yet Anthea could schedule a break to join us…” she said, lifting her brow, her tone accusatory. Mycroft’s expression immediately changed, looking more like a child caught in the cookie jar than the highest ranking member of the English government. 

“Point taken,” he sniffed, kissing her softly. She grinned crookedly. 

“You love me for it.”

“Maybe not this. I love you for many other reasons.” She took this as her triumph, seeing Sherlock and John now having a similar conversation. The group opted to give them space, Violet and Siger settling Rosie in a high chair between them. Sarah kept her hand on Mycroft’s knee squeezing it gently. 

“I included champagne in our reservation,” she said against his ear after she placed a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s three thirty in the afternoon.”

“I thought you might need to relax.” She wasn’t wrong. His return wasn’t marked by strife. Instead, his day was to be spent correcting the mistakes made while he was gone, granting clearances, and cleaning up after the royal family after a week without him. It felt more like babysitting, though he thanked his lucky stars he wouldn’t have to go back. Anthea scheduled this as his final meeting, knowing he would be in no state to come back for an hour or two. Sherlock and John were caught up with mummy and father, letting them know what play they’d be going to and Sherlock trying to convince mummy to give him Rosie. Sarah and Mycroft were, for once and despite their engagement, not the center of attention.

“You may be correct.”

“Bad day?”

“I prefer when there is something pressing, not simply cleaning up after others.”

“We’ll have tea and go home. Your brother and John are taking Violet and Siger to a play and Mrs. Hudson will be babysitting.”

“John shoulders Sherlock’s responsibilities so well.”

“How about I order in for us? We can be lazy.”

“Isn’t that we’ve done the last week?”

“Would you rather we go out?”

“Perhaps? I could get us a reservation. We haven’t gone out in quite a while.”

“Going to spoil me.”

“I’ve proposed, Sarah. Obviously I intend to make spoiling you a habit.”


	27. Chapter 27

Violet and Siger had come with them, both couples agreeing that they’d ride into the city together once they were all ready. Mycroft’s reservation was the same time as their play, and he knew it would please mummy to see he and Sarah together on an evening they’d dressed up for a date. She’d seen them together and dressed up plenty as they’d taken his parents to the symphony, the opera, and a museum event, but he wasn’t sure she believed he took Sarah on dates. And he hadn’t in quite a while.

He did enjoy evenings like these now that they lived together. Getting ready didn’t take much time for him, but he liked to pretend he wasn’t watching Sarah in the mirror with rollers in her hair as she got ready. The doorframe for the bathroom was perfectly placed for him to see her apply her lipstick and line her eyes. Sarah knew he liked to watch her get ready, something she’d told him again and again was okay. He always got a little embarrassed, so she had taken to pretending she didn’t notice. He always came and started dressing when she did, knowing that he would be fastening his cufflinks and putting on his shoes as she took her rollers out.

“Can you zip my dress?” she asked, putting her earrings in. 

“Of course,” he smiled, kissing her shoulder before fastening the hook and eye and zipping it. It had a boatneck, cinched waist, and flowing skirt in the same deep blue of his tie. She always seemed to do this when they went on dates, something that he rather enjoyed. It made them  _ look _ like they were together, and he found himself wondering if he chose his ties subconsciously or she picked her dresses to match. He took his hand, turning her to face him. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, adjusting his coat as she always seemed to do. He found himself realizing that she’d be doing this for the rest of their life together and the now familiar warmth he recognized as affection bloomed in his chest.

“We’ll be going to a new restaurant,” he smiled, hands on her hips. “French. Delightful wine, judging from the list.”

“We’re having a decadent evening aren’t we?” 

“But of course. It’s a set menu. Wine pairings and everything.” 

“You’re too good to me.”

“Untrue,” he said plainly as they made their way down the stairs. “I don’t believe we’ve had a truly decadent dinner out. This is a terrible misstep on my part. I’m simply rectifying it.”

“Sap,” she teased, bumping his hip with her own.

“I hope you can tolerate me for an evening.”

“I plan to tolerate you for the rest of my life.” Sarah gave an exaggerated wiggle of her left ring finger, and Mycroft laughed. Violet and Siger heard the sound, and Violet looked at her husband, chuckling. 

“I haven’t heard that sound in a long time.”

“Our boys are happy,” Siger smiled, leading his wife to where they found the couple settled on each side of the fireplace in their armchairs. He noted two books, two coasters, pens, and notepads between them, imagining they must spend their evenings settled in those chairs. It was comforting to see the signs of domesticity. Mycroft always had them stay at his home, and before Sarah had come, the only signs of life were at his desk.

“You both look so lovely!” Sarah smiled as they came in. “I love that dress, mummy.”

“Thank you,” Violet said, kissing her cheek and taking in the same things her husband had just processed. These changes had meant to Violet a reevaluation of much of what she thought she knew about her eldest son. She thought he had been emotionless, incapable of being lonely. Something she had realized since Eurus was that he was just immensely guarded. Whether or not she agreed with what she’d done, much of what Mycroft had done was off of emotion. “Let me take a picture of the handsome couple. You both look so good.”

“Only if I can get one for you two.” Mummy nodded and, at Sarah’s urging, stood with Siger as she took a few pictures. After hugging her, Sarah pulled Mycroft to stand, grinning as he huffed. When he had his arm around her, he relaxed, remembering how much he liked the pictures from the restaurant in the country. She pressed against his side, hand on his chest with that exceptionally dazzling smile that he was coming to realize only came out with him or when she talked about him. As mummy took the picture, he realized he only smiled as plainly as he was when she was near or she came up in conversation. 

“Perfect,” Siger said, rubbing Violet’s back. “I do believe we need to get into that car so we all reach our intended destinations on time.”

“Correct,” Mycroft nodded, his hand staying on Sarah’s back in the same protective way his father’s rested on his mother’s back. They rode to the city, and Mycroft found himself smiling fondly. His mother had insisted on starting to talk about wedding plans, and Sarah was happy to tell her the details they’d discussed. They’d decided on a summer wedding. The only people they intended to invite were those they were closest to, so they were going to accept a large engagement party to save them the headache of including Mycroft’s immense web of acquaintances from work. Then, they planned to rent a place for everyone they wanted there to stay and get married outdoors. 

Mummy seemed surprised, but Siger was not. Violet viewed the number of people Mycroft knew to be the number of people they’d invite, but Siger knew the reality was Mycroft had let too few people in to want anyone who wasn’t incredibly close to be invited. His parents, John, Sherlock, Rosie, Martha Hudson, Greg Lestrade, a couple of his colleagues whose company he enjoyed, Anthea, Louise, and whoever could make it from Sarah’s side would be the entire group. Maybe twenty to thirty people if Sarah’s family and friends could come. When they parted, Sarah had promised mummy she’d make a list of people they planned to invite and a list of places they were considering going to get married. Mycroft felt relieved when the car door closed again and they were alone. He laced his fingers with Sarah’s, pulling her against his side. Wedding planning would be the end of him. 

“Is it summer yet?” he hummed, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back.

“I can make plans and run them by you,” she chuckled, brushing a hand over his hair. 

“I look forward to discussing our wedding with you. Mummy is just very involved.”

“Just because she’s happy to know you’re okay.”

“I’ve never been unwell,” he argued, looking over at her.

“You’ve also not been well until I made you talk about your feelings.” He made a sound, not wanting to admit that she was right. 

“Let’s just go to dinner and we can plan the wedding once mummy goes home.”

“That sounds perfect.”


	28. Chapter 28

Mummy and Siger returned home that Sunday, and Mycroft felt himself relax for the first time since they’d returned from the lake. Sarah handled his parents’ intrusions better than he could, and he found that while it seemed they happened with less warning, mummy and father always left in a better mood than they came now. Mycroft had poured himself a drink, deciding he’d watch one of his films. As he ran his fingers over the reels, it occurred to him that he hadn’t spent a night hiding with his movies as he previously had. He had Sarah now to comfort him when he’d normally watch reel after reel and drink himself to oblivion.

“Darling?” he called, Sarah hurrying in. “Would you care to watch a film with me?” She knew how he was with his collection, and they’d yet to watch one together. It had been the last section he’d been keeping to himself, and she was fine with that. The room was only intended for one anyway.

“You’re sure?” she smiled fondly, and Mycroft nodded. 

“We’ll need to sort something with our seating. I’ve only one seat.”

“We can pull in a chair or move that one. I have an air mattress.”

“What on Earth would we do with that?”

“Move your seat and put an air mattress? Add blankets and cushions?”

Mycroft tilted his head as he considered the options before him. Routine had set back in, and this was the first routine in months he’d had challenged. He always watched his movies on the seat that was against the projector, but he also always watched them alone. He couldn’t ask Sarah to be alone in standing, Pulling in a chair allowed his routine to remain unchanged. Sarah’s idea would dishevel his carefully arranged room and change his routine. It would, however, allow him to recline, Sarah’s head on his chest as it was when they laid in bed.

“I’ll make room for it,” he nodded stiffly. “You get the mattress.”

“Gladly,” she grinned, hurrying to fetch it. She hadn’t expected him to agree, but she came back with the little electric pump, mattress, and blankets. Mycroft felt happy, he noted, as he inflated the mattress in order to give her time to get them pillows. These changes being in a relationship led to had finally stopped sending his world spinning. 

“I brought your pajamas, if you want to be comfortable,” she said, having changed into her own. “I’m comfortable,” he said, half arguing but carefully undressing and folding each layer. He dressed, starting his copy of  _ The Third Man _ before he went to lower himself to the mattress beside Sarah. The makeshift bed they’d created in his movie room was reminiscent of the forts built with his sibling when they were young. Mycroft noted that he hadn’t done something like this since he was living at home. He didn’t think they’d do it often, but he did think they’d do it again.

“Happy?” Sarah asked softly, a glass of wine in hand. The wine, his drink, and decanter were lined up on the shelf above them, and he realized he’d gone from simply feeling his mind quieted when Sarah was there; he now fully understood he was happy.

“Incandescently.” She curled against his side, head on his shoulder as they watched the movie. She could hear him saying the dialogue and found herself watching his face. She’d learned a lot in the last two weeks, and she found that it took away whatever the last barrier was. After months of only seeing Mycroft under extreme stress, it was like the drive to the lakes was a hard reset. He told her when stress was building through mummy and father’s visit. He’d laughed openly as they had a drink together after his parents went to bed. He was still the iceman to an extent when they went out. His armor went back on. But at home, he was slowly letting guards fall.

“Surprised?” he’d teased her as the twist came, and she was giggling, sitting straight up beside him now. She was tipsy, and he found himself thinking it was sweet to see the lazy smile on her face and slight sway. He also felt a new pride when he saw the slight glint of her engagement ring.

“I knew something was weird!” he found himself watching her more than the movie now, back against the wall and legs sprawled before him and Sarah leaning against his chest. The movie ended, and he stood only to switch off the projector. Sarah laid back, holding her arms out to him. “Sleep.”

“We have a bedroom,” he reminded her, again arguing even though he was already doing as she asked. 

“We have a fort tonight,” she hummed, pulling him close.

“You’re drunk.”

“Celebratin’,” she shrugged, arm around him. 

“We’ve celebrated quite a bit.”

“I can’t wait to marry you, Mycroft.” Mycroft felt overwhelmed as he heard the emotion in her voice. He hadn’t realized how much of their relationship he spent fearing she’d leave. Maybe it was that he feared; allowing himself to care for her as he did allowed the possibility she would devastate him by leaving one day.

“It’ll be just us and our friends and families.”

“Your family and our friends,” she sighed, playing with his fingers. “My parents are not pleased.”   
“What?” His chest constricted and he was certain fear was setting in that her family would convince her she’d be better off without him. They’d be right.

“Mom and dad are furious. I was going to move home after school. Now I’m not. They think I should marry a nice farmer or something.”

“Usually parents are trying to marry their beautiful daughters to the rich.” He was insecure in a lot, but he thought he’d sound good enough on paper to convince her parents. Social cues were difficult, but surely a settled down government worker with money to take care of her was enough.

“They just want me to live down the road from them until I die,” she said, tearing up. He found himself trying to analyze how this was his fault, but objectively, this seemed to be overprotectiveness on their part.

“They can come, meet me, and take part in our wedding. I will make every effort to be warm and welcoming. But I will not allow them to insult you.”

“Thanks,” she smiled softly, kissing him. “Maybe we start by inviting them for Christmas?”

“Of course,” he said, though he wanted to scream. That meant both sets of parents at once, Mycroft’s worst nightmare.

“You’re certain?”

“I’m sure, darling. It is late notice, but call them. I can have a plane arranged by tomorrow if need be.” Sarah nodded gently, hand curling into his side. She kissed him again, calling them and inviting them to come for ten days. Mycroft was already looking at rentals near them, knowing it would cause both himself and Sarah too much stress to allow them to stay in their home. His parents approved of them. Hers sounded as though they wouldn’t. Her parents were retired, and depressingly already had passports, so they jumped at the opportunity to board a plane the next week. 

“Dad wants to speak to you to talk about the plane.”

“Hello, Richard,” Mycroft smiled tightly and Sarah chuckled as she recognized the same voice he uses when speaking to his colleagues.

“My daughter says your name is Mycroft?”

“Yes, Mycroft Holmes,” he said, absently going to adjust a waistcoat he wasn’t wearing.

“How are you getting us there so quickly?”

“Benefits of my work. I’m very fortunate, and I know Sarah wishes we meet.”

“You could have done this before proposing.” Mycroft swallowed, eyes wide.

“It happened spontaneously,” he almost lied. “I’m very sorry.”

“You didn’t have my blessing.”

“I rather thought it was your daughter’s decision to make.”

“It’s manners.”

“Well, I do apologize for not asking you if I could marry your daughter. We’ll have a place ready for you and your wife to ensure you have space.”

“I appreciate that you’re making it up.”

“I am so pleased to,” the tight smile almost made her snort, “A car will pick you both up at eight am on Wednesday. I’ll have my assistant send you an itinerary.” Mycroft finished up, sending a text out to Anthea with a yawn. He’d included the apartments near his home he’d found, the time for the flights, and the urgency of stocking the apartment before the Garners arrived. 

“Thank you,” she said softly, head on his lap. “I don’t care if they’re happy or not. You’re it for me Myc.”

“Get some rest, darling,” he whispered as he shifted to lay against her. “I’m happy to.”


	29. Chapter 29

_ I’m unable to leave this meeting. Your parents will be at the rental in an hour. I’ll arrive there at approximately 5:30 and I’ve made reservations. -MH _

Sarah reread the message, nerves high as she drove Mycroft’s car to the apartment. As with everything, he owned a nicer car than she’d ever driven. She maneuvered it carefully, still new to driving in London. Once she parked, she made her way to the door, her mother tearing it open immediately. 

“Sarah!” Jane squealed, pulling her daughter into a hug. “It’s been months. I missed you.”

“Hi mama,” she beamed, squeezing her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“This place is gorgeous. It’s very kind of you and that man of yours to put us up.”

“His name is Mycroft,” Sarah reminded her. “And he knew I missed you. Wants to meet you before the wedding.” She saw her mother bristle at the mention, and sighed softly. “Mama, I didn’t plan on this.”

“And now you’ll be abandoning us,” she said with a teasing tone. Sarah knew it wasn’t a joke.

“I’ll come to visit and you can come here. You’ve got Allison and the kids.”

“What’s so wrong with America?”

“Nothing before. But now, Mycroft isn’t there.”

“Why can’t he move?”

“His work is here, mama. He works for the British government. Mine is more moveable. Please, can we just enjoy that you’re here.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said tightly. As they entered the flat, she realized her father must have opted for a nap; she hadn’t told them to expect her, so she was unsurprised. “I do want to see this son in law.”

“I’ve sent you pictures.”

“I mean in person. Where is he?”

“He’s working. He couldn’t get out of it and still get Christmas.”

“I googled him. Found nothing. Is he related to the idiot in the hat?”

“Sherlock is incredibly smart. They both are.”

“He sticks his nose in everything from what I’ve seen.”

“You’ll get to meet him at Christmas. Mycroft will be here after work to take us all for dinner.”

“He better,” she nodded. Things relaxed as they moved from their discussion of Mycroft to settling her in and catching the elder Garner woman up on what her daughter had been up to. She smoothed over any rough patch with Mycroft. They knew what happened with Eurus, but it was almost impossible to understand from the outside, she knew. Her father joined him, and again, there was a pointed decision not to discuss Mycroft. Sarah was worried this trip would turn out fruitless. Her phone rang, a picture of him looking out over the lake taking over the screen. 

“Hey Myc,” she smiled warmly, desperate to hear his voice. 

“Hello, Sarah dear,” he said, finger tracing the lines as he read through the last of the papers. “How are they?”

“We’ve been having a great time catching each other up.”

“Good. I’ll be there in an half hour. I corrected our reservation. Dress is a seven, per usual.”

“We’ll see you when you get here,” she smiled. 

“I love you, darling. I do hope it’s going well.”

“I love you too, Myc. I can’t wait to see you.”

He knew what that meant as he hung up. Sarah seemed stressed. He’d taken to getting her flowers when she felt that way. He ordered two bouquets, and Anthea, the only one aware of every way Mycroft Holmes had changed, lifted a brow. 

“Her parents are here. And hate me.”

“Flowers are a good move. Just treat her as you always do. If they don’t accept it, you cannot force them.”

He made a noise of disdain as he left, cradling both bouquets in the crook of his elbow. Accepting Sarah could reject him was hard, but now he realized caring about her opened the door to caring if her parents liked him. When he arrived, he knocked, umbrella and briefcase in the waiting car. Sarah was beaten to the door by her mother, and he’d have known this was her mother anywhere.

“You must be Jane,” he said with his kindest voice as he entered, extending one of the bouquets. Sarah recognized the smile from each event she’d attended with him. A charming enough smile, and a slight bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I thought these may make your temporary lodging feel more like home.”

“They’re lovely,” Jane smiled, accepting them graciously. “Thank you. I’m happy to get to meet the man stealing my daughter.” Mycroft bristled, but he relaxed when he saw Sarah. She was stunning, as always, and he went to kiss her softly.

“Gonna spoil me,” she teased, taking the flowers gladly. 

“I do believe that’s the goal.” She chuckled, following her mom to put the flowers in water. 

“Mycroft,” Richard said, extending a hand. He felt this was a test, giving Sarah’s father his firmest handshake.

“Richard,” he said with the same practiced grace.

“You’ve made them both happy with the flowers.”

“I’m glad,” Mycroft nodded. Richard seemed less antagonistic.

“I like the way you look at her.” Mycroft furrowed his brow, turning to Richard.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“You look at her like she’s the only woman in the world.”

“As far as I’m concerned, she is,” he said, hating to share this outside of his time with only Sarah. But, Richard, who wasn’t seeming to be on his side was now, so he was going to have his moment of vulnerability. “I am not worthy of her, I know. I adore her, and I will protect her at all costs.”

“What do you do?”

“I occupy a minor position in the British government.” The words were dry and rehearsed.

“Minor positions can’t do what she’s said you’ve done. And they have vacation days.”

“Minor position,” he repeated. “Which allows me to guarantee you haven’t a thing to worry about.”

“Is daddy quizzing ya?” Sarah asked and he relaxed, feeling her arms snake around his waist. 

“Only about work,” he assured her, a slight curl of his lip the only thing to betray he was happy, even as her mom stared at him.

“How old are you?” 

“Forty-six,” he answered, tilting his head as his hand rested high enough on Sarah’s back to be gentlemanly.

“She’s only thirty.”

“Mom, seriously? We’ve been over this.”

“He just wants a pretty young thing on his arm.” Sarah twitched, and he could feel the polite anger rising in his chest. This was a sore spot for them, though they’d primarily moved on. He also couldn’t fathom the way that her mother was reacting.

“I’m sorry that your opinion of your daughter’s other traits are so low you think I’d choose her only for her looks. She’s an intelligent, kind, driven woman who happens to be incredibly beautiful. I will not lie, I saw the latter first. That said, in my forty-six years, I have not put forth the effort for just a pretty face. Sarah is truly extraordinary, and I hope you can come to realize if she weren’t, I would not tie up my precious time away from work making her happy.”

Sarah watched as her father decided Mycroft Holmes was certainly someone he’d happily have his daughter marry. Was he a man’s man in the way Richard expected? No. Richard had spent his life running a working farm, and the calluses on his hands showed how much manual labor was a part of his life. He’d prefer Sarah to marry someone more like him who could do all the work himself. That said, he was an intelligent enough man to recognize Mycroft could pay someone to do whatever he and Sarah needed and something told him Mycroft would also hurt anyone who hurt Sarah. He also knew that his wife was overly critical of every choice her daughter made. Neither of them had been to school, and to Jane, Sarah should have two point five children and a farm down the road. 

“Myc,” Sarah chided softly as her mother continued to stare. Mycroft lifted his brow, resolute not to apologize when he’d seen the way Jane’s comment had caused Sarah to tense. 

“I do believe the car is waiting,” he said, smile dazzling but voice challenging. “Shall we go to dinner?”

“I like him,” Richard said to his wife, who looked up at him. 

“You would,” she huffed, following him out. Sarah lingered back with Mycroft, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered, letting him lead her to the car.

“I won’t allow her to imply anything,” he answered against her temple. 

“My gentleman.”


	30. Chapter 30

“We’re hosting Christmas this year,” Sarah beamed, her hand resting on Mycroft’s knee. “We wanted to be sure you wouldn’t be bothered by us getting the house ready, that’s why we got you a place. I also figured you guys like your space.”

“I’m just saying that it would’ve been kinder to offer your home,” Jane said, and Mycroft felt Sarah’s fingers dig into his thigh.

“Jane, don’t be ridiculous,” Richard sighed, hand going to rest on his wife’s. “You know damn well you’d be wanting to be in a hotel room three days in.”

“If you’d rather, we can cancel the apartment,” Mycroft’s voice remained delightfully controlled. He could see the older woman was just trying to pick a fight. She’d enjoyed everything about the apartment up until there had been a lull in the meal as they awaited entrees. He was determined to treat this as he would any negotiation with a hostile foreign power.

“I never said that!” she huffed. “The offer just would have been nice.”

“We’ll remember that next time,” Sarah promised, taking another long draw of her wine. Mycroft knew Sarah would be happy to have this meeting over so that when the wedding came around the bickering would have calmed or been something they became used to.

“Yes, I’m terribly sorry. It’s my fault. I was hoping to make you as comfortable as possible, and Sarah mentioned you preferred your own space. I do hope you won’t hold it against her.” It was his own time with Sarah he’d been trying to protect, but no need to share that.

“You’ve both done the right thing. My bride just likes to pick a fight.”

“Sarah tries to bicker with me. I suppose I’m too smitten because I just do as she says.”

“You’ve already unlocked the secret of a happy marriage.” The laugh her father gave was loud and real, something that made Sarah’s grip on Mycroft’s thigh relax. 

“You two will get to meet Mycroft’s family at Christmas. His brother and his partner, their baby, and then Violet and Siger.” She wanted to call them mummy and father, but she knew her own mother would not take that well right now. Luckily, they were open minded to most things, so she knew Sherlock and John wouldn’t mean she had to correct her parents.

“And are they offered a room?”

“Everyone but Violet and Siger will be going home. They have not decided if they are getting a room or spending Christmas night with us. You’re both welcome to stay Christmas night as well.”

“We will,” Jane said, seeming placated for the time being. Mycroft noted that Sarah’s wine was gone, nodding his head when he caught the sommelier’s eye. He knew well enough that Sarah needed to keep a glass of wine in hand when she was this wound up. He also knew she’d need to unpack her frustration when they returned home.

“There’s room?” Richard asked, and this was the first time Mycroft had felt the older man was sizing him up.

“Plenty,” he nodded, now finishing his own drink. “We’ve extra rooms for everyone to stay if need be. Sarah has convinced me to cook, which wasn’t as difficult as she expected. She also convinced me that we ought to have someone come out to decorate.”

“You aren’t decorating for yourselves?”

“We’re doing the inside,” she grinned. “I wanted lights on the house and in the trees and lining the walkways. It was too much just for us.”

“We couldn’t possibly go without the trees done,” Mycorft teased, giving Sarah a rare, real smile.

“It sounds like we’re in for a treat,” Jane nodded tightly. 

“Ah, it seems our entrees are here,” Mycroft hummed, eating happily and allowing Richard to guide the conversation. Once they finished, both he and Sarah were tipsier than they got at a normal dinner. Once they settled her parents in the flat, he called them another car.

“Daddy likes ya,” she grinned as they settled in the back seat. “Mom will come around.”

“I will survive if she does not. Will you be alright with that possibility?” He was adjusting the handle of his umbrella, resolute not to look at her. He only did that when he was worried she’d leave.

“If she never likes you, I don’t care. And I think she primarily dislikes me marrying anyone. She thinks it should have happened before graduate school and I should have 2.5 children now.”

“I’m becoming more open to that idea,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I am terrified at the prospect, but I checked in when you, John, and Rosie took my parents to the museum. I’d like to think we’d have a red head with the curls from my side of the family but your smile. And they’d be simply brilliant.”

“You imagine them?” she smiled softly, taking his hand as they entered their home. Now she was picturing a little redhead running to meet them.

“Constantly,” he murmured, pouring another drink. “I just fear the concept, Sarah. As we’ve discussed, my genetics do not bode well.”

“Nobody is perfect. But they still have children and raise them to be good people.”

“What if they hurt you or Rosie or their friends?”

“Myc, she is an anomaly.”

“An anomaly from my genepool.”

“How about this?” she asked, hands going to his hips. “We won’t try to get pregnant, but we won’t prevent it. If we have a child, we have a child. If we don’t, we don’t.”

He paused, finishing his drink. He thought again of the child, imagining them running down the stairs when they returned from dinner to hug his knees before Sarah scooped them up. If they were able to raise them well, seeing them start school, learn to drive, learn to talk. Maybe it was how much he had been drinking, but he gave a gentle nod.

“Not until after the wedding,” he agreed. “But yes, I would imagine that is a good plan.”

“I’ll talk to you about it again in the morning?”

“Please,” he nodded, lacing their fingers as he watched her. She was far less drunk than him, and he was teetering on the edge of wallowing in the fact her mother couldn’t stand him. Now he felt a warmth in his chest and a new confidence they could raise a child. Once the alcohol left his system, he knew the terror would return.

“C’mon, my darling drunk fiance,” she said, pulling him up the stairs. Usually, if he drank too much, Mycroft would manage to get out of his suit and lay it over a chair before collapsing on the bed and sleeping with his feet still on the ground. Sarah hadn’t seen him this drunk from dinner, and she carefully undressed him, hanging his suit and placing the cufflinks in their dish in the closet. He was swaying as she pulled down the blankets and settled him in bed.

“You’ll be a phenomenal mother,” he whispered, sinking into the mattress as she covered him. 

“And you’ll be a phenomenal father,” she smiled, squeezing his hand. He watched her wash her face, almost giddy as she settled beside him. 

“Goodnight, my darling,” he said as he teetered on the edge of sleep.

“Goodnight, Myc,” she smiled, tangling their limbs,


	31. Chapter 31

“Did you mean what you said last night?” Sarah asked softly as they got ready together the next morning. If he were anyone else, she might ask if he remembered, but they’d gotten that drunk before, and he always remembered every word. Mycroft had been hoping nothing would be brought up because that blasted feeling of vulnerability was bubbling up again, but no scotch was there to dull it.

“Which part?” 

“That you imagine our child.”

“Yes,” he nodded, clearing his throat. “I do. And I stand by our decision.”

“I want you to repeat it to me.”

“Sarah, that’s pointless.”

“You were really drunk. I want to know we’re on the same page.”

“We’ll stop preventing pregnancy after the wedding. If we are to get pregnant, we will have children. I would be very happy with this reality, but I am terrified by it. If we do not have children, you will be happy still and relish in your status as aunt.”

“That was an amalgamation of all of our talks, but yes. Perfect. Thank you Myc.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, but unsure what he was thanking her for. Being understanding? Loving him? Compromising?

“I’ll be taking them sightseeing today. Keep me in your thoughts,” she said, arms wrapping around his waist. 

“You always are. I’ll keep an eye on you three. I suppose you could Invite John and Rosie? Sherlock will not make things easier, and he would relish in giving your mother fodder.”

“I was thinking I’d take them to the natural history museum. That could last all day. Then tomorrow, mom wants to go do all the royal family touristy things.”

“If she only knew how much I’m forced to clean up their messes,” he said with distaste. Sarah laughed, squeezing his hand. “Would they enjoy the ballet? We’ve been offered a box.”

“Mummy and Father will be jealous,” she laughed, rubbing his back. 

“We’ll see them the next evening, and I took them last year. Take them to buy attire if needed.”

“I’ll let them know,” she grinned up at him. “Thank you.” She kissed his cheek, slipping downstairs. She’d ensured Louise got the days around Christmas to be with her family, so she made their breakfasts, pouring coffee as Mycroft joined her at the table. They ate in a comfortable silence, trading sections of the newspaper. She kissed him sweetly as he left, making her way to the rented flat. 

“Sarah,” her dad grinned, hugging her. “How’s your head?”

“We had a greasy breakfast. Helped,” she chuckled, settling on the couch. “I wasn’t too tipsy.”

“Mycroft seemed past tipsy.”

“He was,” she chuckled. “He would never admit it, but he was nervous.”

“I’m sure Jane didn’t help,” he said, sighing as he settled in the seat across from her. “Your mama just worries. I like him though. Not what I expected for you. But I like how he looks at you. He needs to stop the bullshit smile though.”

“I think it’s ingrained from work. That teeny tiny curl up of his lips though is basically a smile.”

“The look he was giving you mama wasn’t a smile. He was baring his teeth.”

“She was being mean, daddy. Myc knew it was upsetting me. He’s a little protective. We had a fight and mom was saying some things he did. He said it to hurt me, but it was when we were first dating. He really is new to feelings.”

“He loves you, and you’re happy.”

“I am,” she smiled softly.

“I never got to look at the ring he picked out,” Richard said, expectantly holding his hand out. Sarah gave him her hand, beaming. “That’s a sparkler. He spoils you, don’t he?”

“He does,” she nodded. “And let me change up the house to make it more comfy. Keeps it a little more stuffy than I like. I replaced the couches and armchairs.”

“Well, he takes care of you. And I appreciate he does it to do it. He didn’t try to show off at dinner until your mama was being rude. There was no show, and he took us to a helluva place.”

“He’s a little fancy,” she chuckled. “He’s invited you guys to go see the Nutcracker. He’s arranging everything, probably including dinner, and said to take you shopping if you need something to wear.”

“Your mama will love that.”

“I know! I wish she could like him.”

“She’ll come around. Is he weird? Yeah. But he makes my baby smile.”

“You’ll be here to give me away, right?”

“Mr. Government couldn’t even keep me away.” Sarah laughed, wrapping her dad in a tight hug. 

“Should we take mama shopping for the ballet today or tomorrow?”

“Today. You know how she gets looking at pretty dresses. And maybe that’ll get you two talkin’ about your wedding.”

“You’ll like it. We’re renting an estate in the country and bringing everyone for a weekend. Getting married outside in summer.”

“I like it. He didn’t seem like a country boy.”

“He took me to a cottage by the lakes. He’s a bit too fancy, but I like it. He wears sweaters when he isn’t scared someone will see him.”

“Ah, he’s a cabin with pre-chopped firewood guy?”

“Spot on. And add fancy country estates. Honestly, he could do it himself if he wanted. He just doesn’t.”

“I can respect that.”

“He’s weapons trained for work and there’s a lot of murky stuff.”

“What, is he a spy?”

“I know he worked with MI6. I think it’s more than that now. But, he can control CCTV?”

“He’s bullshitting you.”

“No, I saw. We went to an event together, and he has his brother tracked. He’s got some problems. And they called him in to see it.”

“Does he watch you?” Richard’s brow was furrowed, and she could tell this was when she’d have to be honest.

“Yes. And I’m okay with it. I’ve seen the things that can happen.”

“Are you in danger?”

“I have to tell you the truth,” she said softly, tucking her hair back. “I may be sometimes. He ended things to try and keep me safe. There was an ordeal with an explosion. Someone was after them. Mycroft, John, and Sherlock were involved in an explosion and then went to deal with the person who sent it. They were the only person smarter than Myc and Sherlock. John and I were kidnapped as part of it. I’m fine, I’ve been in therapy, and I am not concerned anything else will happen. Quite honestly, dad, I’m willing to take the chance.”

“I really don’t like anything you just told me.”

“That’s why he watches me. I wanted you to understand. I also have drivers and one time some kid on campus stole my wallet, and it ended up on my desk with a note from Myc.”

“You know what, I’m going to trust you on this. I hate it, but I do think he’d work his ass off to keep you safe. But I don’t like it.”

“Fair. Thank you daddy. Don’t tell mom.”

“Not a problem. She’s at the grocery store and this is not one she could get past.”

_ Your mother will be at the apartment in fifteen minutes. -MH _

Sarah laughed, showing her dad the text. 

“I gotta get me one of these government officials. Your mama keeps walking in when I’m sneaking a cigarette.”


	32. Chapter 32

_ I had dresses pulled for you and your mother and a shopper waiting for your mother to detest the selection. -MH _

_ Thanks, puppeteer. Dad’s been tickled by all this. Love you. -SG _

_ I’m glad. I love you, dear -MH _

“We get to play dress up,” Jane hummed, following Sarah in. 

“We do! And Myc had some dresses pulled to get us started.”

“Does he always make decisions for you?”

“No. He just likes to try and make things more relaxing.”

“What if you’d planned to go somewhere else?”

“He’d be fine with it, ma.”

“Jane, they probably shop together when he isn’t working.”

“We do. And it’s usually here.”

“I don’t like it,” Jane said breezily, Sarah sighing. Richard took up residence in the seat near the dressing room, giving the girls space. 

“Mr. Holmes said you looked something classic. So this is our classic to vintage selection,” the shopgirl, Allison, explained, pointing to one side. “He said he wasn’t as sure for Mrs. Garner here, so I took liberty. If we need to pull more, I can easily.”

“Thank you Allison,” Sarah grinned. “What kind of dress are you thinking, mama?”

“I’ll know when I see it,” she shrugged, fingers trailing each dress. Sarah shook her head slightly, realizing her mom was not feeling chatty yet.

“I’m liking these yellow ones. Yellow is so pretty on you.”

“I do like this long sleeve one.”

“Try it on! We got time.”

“What are you going to try?”

“I think this sequined one. It’s fun.” Her mom smiled warmly for the first time since arriving, and the duo went into the dressing room. They came out, examining each other. 

“I like it. It’s a little more modern than I see you in, but the neckline is stunning. And the glitter makes it festive.”

“I’m obsessed with that dress on you. It fits you like a glove.”

“The dresses were easy, huh?”

“They’re good here.”

“Shoes are where it’s really at, Sarah.”

“Oh, I know. You need a nude, I think.”

“So do you. Let’s leave these with your father and go shop.”

Both women relaxed as they shopped, content to avoid the topic of Sarah’s marriage. She wanted to gush to her mom, but Jane was not a woman who handled her perceived plans falling through. Sarah was meant to get her PhD, come home, and live close, not marry some uppity government official on another continent. Soon enough, their purchases were packed up, and Sarah was walking her parents through Hyde Park. Her phone rang, stepping to the side when she saw Mycroft’s name.

“Hey Myc,” she grinned, relief in her voice. It had been a long day of dodging each of her mother’s suggestions to come home, and now her father was joining in the bickering.

“Hello, Sarah,” he said and she instantly knew he was at work where people could hear him. “Is it going well?”

“As can be expected.”

“Soon enough she’ll acclimate.” He wasn’t sure he believed it. “I wanted to let you know, a colleague has been  _ gracious _ enough to plan us an engagement party after the new year.”

“You sound ecstatic.”

“It does save us planning it,” he said, the faintest teasing lilt in his voice. “Perhaps you should encourage your father to take her to dinner?”

“You just want me all to yourself.”

“Perhaps.”

“Such a romantic,” she teased. “I’ll suggest it.”

“I’ll see you this evening. I may be home a smidge late.” His voice suddenly sounded tired and while she knew not to ask, she knew something was happening.

“I’ll wait up. Love you.”

“And I you.” 


	33. Chapter 33

“Mom, that's enough,” Sarah bit out, hand running through her hair.

“I’m just saying. There’s something suspicious.” Her father was asleep, and she suddenly wanted to wake him up from his nap to protect her from this conversation.

“Because he brought you two out here?”

“Why didn’t he take time off work?”

“He works for the  _ government _ mom. He got time off to take me to the cottage and propose. That takes a hell of a lot for him to get.”

“Your cousin works for the government. He can get time off.”

“He works for the DMV! Mycroft has a lot he takes on.”

“He said he’s a minor official.”

“Maybe because ‘The British government operates through me’ sounds less believable, and you’ve made it very apparent you don’t trust or like him.”

“I don’t. He has a stick up his ass and dodges personal questions.”

“He doesn’t owe you every detail of his life at the first dinner. It took two months for him to kiss me. I trust him. And you should trust the way you raised me well enough to see that maybe he’s a little less open than our family.”

“I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Then you’re going to miss out on a lot of my life, mom. I’m marrying Mycroft. If you don’t understand, that’s fine. John is the only one who does, since he’s living with the other Holmes. I just want you to stop being so openly hostile and let me enjoy telling my mom about my fiance and wedding and plans. Otherwise, his mom will be the one involved in everything, dad will give me away, and you’ll be a guest.”

“I want no part of the planning.” Sarah’s jaw tightened and she nodded. 

“Fine. Violet and I will take care of it. I do hope you’ll come. I’ve got to get home and you’ve got to get ready for dinner with dad. Mycroft and I will see you tomorrow for dinner and the ballet.” Sarah was out of the apartment quickly, bag held close to her side. She fumbled with her phone, calling a cab and climbing in.

_ I’d have sent a car, darling -MH _

_ I had to leave -SG _

_ Are you alright? -MH _

_ She’s a bitch -SG _

Sarah threw her phone into her purse, scrubbing her eyes as tears started to fall. It was more frustrating than painful. Her mother always had such firm plans for her, and this happened everytime Sarah changed them. First college in a new city, then graduate school in a new state, then moving across an ocean. There was also her frustration at the way her mother ignored what Mycroft was doing for her. He’d flown her here, found a place for them to stay, invited them to Christmas, and was taking them on outings in the evening when Sarah knew he would much prefer a tumbler of scotch and a night up reading.

_ She’ll come around. I’m on your side, bug. Hugs, dad _

Her dad always had to step in like this. He’d done it at each stage as Sarah forged her own path. And it wasn’t that she didn’t know her mother would come around; it was the fact she couldn’t pretend to be excited. Mycroft was an acquired taste, and Sarah knew that. She didn’t expect everyone who met him to understand why they were together because she was also acutely aware of the fact much of what she got to see of him, no one else did. 

When she arrived home, she hung her bag, checking the time. She had an hour or two before Mycroft’s new expected arrival. He never told her a time when he was unsure he’d make it, so she ran a bath and poured a glass of wine. It was surely a difficult day for him, and fights with her mother were sure to drive him up the wall because they were a reminder he couldn’t prevent certain hurts. She relaxed, head lulled against the back of the bath when her phone buzzed.

“Hey Myc,” she murmured, eyes still closed.

“It went poorly, I take it?” he asked, and she could hear he was drained as well.

“Very. I’ll live. Mummy and I will be planning the wedding.”

“Mummy will be ecstatic not to share.”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course. Why would you ask?”

“I know your voice.” He let out a low chuckle.

“It was just a long day of security breaches and a royal scandal to be prevented.”

“So not even the things you enjoy.”

“Precisely.” She knew he thrived when the things keeping him late were stimulating-- a puzzle to be solved. 

“It’s just us tonight. Ballet tomorrow, then it’s Christmas.”

“I’m picking up dinner, and then I’ll be home,” he said gently. “We can eat in bed.”

“You really must be tired.”

“I love you, Sarah dear.

“Love you too, Myc.” He hung up, and she dried off, pulling on a nightgown and robe. The car pulled up as she reached the kitchen, pouring him a scotch. He smiled fondly as he entered and took it gratefully as he set the take away on the counter. She stretched up to kiss his cheek, taking the boxes and leading him upstairs. He set his tumbler down, quietly removing his suit and hanging it up methodically. Once he was in his own pajamas, he settled beside her as she placed his food into his lap.

“Thank you,” she said softly. He nodded, the pair eating in a content silence. Sometimes, when they were being so completely domestic, she liked to watch him. The lines in his face were deeper today, and he was tired. That didn’t change the elegance with which he moved. He managed to look more old hollywood in his pajamas than lazy, and she liked to see how deliberate he always was. Whether it was chewing his food, selecting his words, or leaning in to kiss her, nothing Mycroft Holmes did was less than a graceful choice. 

“You’re staring,” he teased her as she always did him. 

“Simply appreciating the view.”


	34. Chapter 34

“Your mom is starting to come around,” Richard said into the phone, his wife getting ready to spend the day out. Sarah has decided to wait and have lunch with them before going back home to prepare for dinner and oversee the decoration of the house. 

“I hope,” she said, sitting at the little window desk she’d added in the library with her thesis spread in front of her. “Myc understands. He’s used to people disliking him. I’m just so upset with how she talks about him, daddy. People don’t get him. All this ‘aren’t I impartial’ business is so he can pretend nobody can hurt him.”

“You don’t have to convince me, bug. Your mama just ain’t going to like anybody that pulls you from Tennessee.”

“I did that myself five years ago.”

“Once you’re married though, she’s gotta accept you ain’t moving back. She did mention how pretty a lace dress would be for an outdoor wedding yesterday evening though.”

“Really?” Sarah’s voice was soft, not unlike Richard had always heard it when she was a child.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Do you think she’ll get along with his mom? I can get along with anyone.”

“So can Siger. And Violet and mom are the same kind of trying, so they’ll probably sit in the kitchen and discuss all the ways we haven’t fulfilled their expectations.”

“It’s amazing they can do that with intelligent children, isn’t it?”

“Especially given how much Myc protects them. He kind of bears all the worst to keep mummy sane.”

“Just like you don’t tell mama about anything bad that happens.”

“Exactly. She doesn’t need anything else to try to hold against me.”

“We’ll see you at lunch, okay, bug? I’ll try to keep her talking nice about the wedding.”

“Thanks daddy. See ya at lunch.” 

That was a relaxing idea. Her mom dodged any mention of a wedding when they shopped the day before. They’d passed a display of low heels that all felt perfect for the wedding. She’d stopped to run her fingers over a blue pair, and Jane had watched her, realized where her daughter’s mind was going, and marched on to evening shoes with no mention. Now she’d at least acknowledged the fact Sarah was getting married and would need a dress. She also knew her daughter well enough to know that Sarah had saved a little folder on her computer of tea length lace dresses to look at in the new year when wedding planning kicked into a higher priority slot. She worked on her thesis for a few hours, climbing into one of the sleek black cars she’d become accustomed to. When they stopped at 221 Baker Street, her phone dinged. 

_ Sherlock is working with me today. I thought you could use reinforcements. -MH _

She’d gotten more texts from Mycroft in the last few days. Normally, texts were out of the ordinary. He much preferred the phone. That said, he was also diligently cleaning up messes from what he’d said the night before, and texting meant he could still check in. John Watson left the flat, Rosie on his hip and Sarah helped to install the carseat for the afternoon’s excursion.

_ I love you -SG _

_ And I you -MH _

“It sounds like our boys are busy,” she chuckled, John nestled in the middle beside Rosie. 

“They are. Something with extortion. A nice puzzle for Sherlock to hunt down a flashdrive. I opted out to get a few days of dad duty.”

“I didn’t mean for him to rope you into my family dramatics.”

“I offered. Sherlock said it seemed something was happening and did the deduction thing.”

“You, John Watson, are a saint.”

“I just know no one can misbehave in front of Rosie.”

“My mom will leave you, dad, and I be to play with her the whole meal.”

“Rosie’s dream.” Sarah laughed as they made their way to the restaurant, taking her own turn to tote a babbling Rosie to the table. 

“Oh, now who is this?” Richard grinned, standing to kiss his daughter’s forehead and give a happy grin to Rosie.

“John Watson, my brother in law,” she grinned, opting not to explain that Sherlock was the Holmes who would likely never officially marry unless John insisted on it. Even then, it would be a fight. “And my niece, little miss Rosie.”

“Let me take her,” Jane cooed, happily taking the little girl and sitting back at the table. “It’s a pleasure to meet you John.”

“Likewise,” he nodded, shaking Richard’s offered hand. “I hear you two will be joining us at Christmas.”

“We’re looking forward to it,” Richard smiled. 

“Even if it’s at his house.” Sarah sighed, leaning into her seat. 

“Sorry, what?” John asked and Sarah regretted not filling him in immediately.

“My wife thinks Mycroft is a bad person because now Sarah won’t move home to Tennessee.”

“He’s also not answering my questions.”

“Mom, he can’t tell you the details of work.”

“Of course he can. I won’t tell.”

“Not knowing everything is a benefit with the Holmes boys,” John shrugged. “They’re both good. I used to not like Mycroft, but I understand him differently now. You just have to get used to them. You also have to give them reason to trust you. Which is bloody hard.”

He had consistently agreed with Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson that Mycroft was vile. When it came to Sherlock, he knew the hatred was tempered with brotherly affection buried deep, deep down. He hadn’t, however, believed Mycroft had a heart or a soft spot. When they’d been at Sherrinford, he’d seen a viscerally emotional side of Mycroft. A fiercely protective one. And one willing to sacrifice himself because he’d realized his little brother was in love. He’d also seen the way Mycroft was driven by emotion more than he’d care to admit. He wasn’t doing what he did out of self interest; he wanted to protect his family.

“He’s no reason not to.”

“You’ve made Sarah upset and you have made it very apparent you want her to leave him. I think that’s reason to take offense. I’d be offended.” Sarah and her dad both bit back a smile as Jane’s eyes narrowed on the man.

“I’ve been plenty kind.”

“Mom, you started dinner critiquing the fact Mycroft didn’t offer our place, even though you wouldn’t have taken the offer. And then you basically told me you want nothing to do with the wedding, so I went home and cried off and on all night.”

“You said that would be fine,” Jane tried to argue.

“Jane, you know damn well she just wants you to help her plan but not try to talk her out of the wedding.”

“I’m not trying to change her mind.”

“Mrs. Garner, I’ve been here for twenty minutes, and you’ve insulted Mycroft twice,” John said plainly.

Jane rested Rosie in her lap, staring at the three around her. She knew Sarah; the girl needed to settle down and have children. It was the greatest thing to ever happen to her. Mycroft didn’t seem the fatherly type, and he certainly didn’t seem like he’d teach a child to change their own tire. It suddenly struck her that she was making assumptions like the ones people made when they saw Richard in his sweat soaked overalls and work boots when they spoke to him. They treated him as less intelligent, less worthy, less happy.; she was looking at Mycroft with his crisp suit and pocket watch and assuming him less caring, less accepting, less capable of helping her daughter on the side of the road.

“Why do you like him?” she asked her daughter plainly for the first time since she’d heard the name Mycroft through the phone months before.

“I love him. Once he really lets someone know him, he’s a softy. Some family stuff made him think it was bad to care about people because it made you vulnerable and work reinforced it. But he cares about the people in his life more fiercely than anyone else I know. He has some weird ways to show it, but he also does little things. He brought home take away and ate in bed while we read because he knew I was sad. He makes me laugh, and I just feel really happy and like we compliment each other. He’s incredibly guarded, and he’s going to act like he doesn’t care if you don’t like him, but he wants you to. And what I really like is that it isn’t for him. He could give a shit if you like him. But he knows I want you to like him, so he’s planning outings and making sure the second guest room is ready. He took his first week off work in a long time to take me to the lake district and see where the Lake Poets lived because we’d had a rough few months with work and some family things.”

Jane nodded tightly, hand going to Richard’s and John was watching the family. Rosie seemed to understand this was serious, making the same face of concentration as her father.

“Sarah, it’s incredibly difficult. You’re my daughter, and now I have to accept you aren’t coming back to Tennessee. I do realize now that I was making some assumptions and that was wrong. He just feels like the kind of man who would be treating your father and I differently because we didn’t go to college and we had kids early and stayed on a farm out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Mom, there’s something about Mycroft. He doesn’t like anyone or dislike anyone until they give him a reason to. Would he probably avoid dad when he’s muddy? Yeah. But he’d decide if he liked or disliked dad once he had reasons. He’s scary smart so he can look at someone and figure out way too much. But he’s good and kind unless there is reason for him not to be.”

“I promise to behave tonight,” she nodded, wiping a stray tear. “Shit, I’ve really been a terror, haven’t I?”

“Not more than his brother, so Mycroft will recover,” John smiled warmly, reaching out to put a hand on her forearm, drawing a laugh from the Garners.

“Now, what shall we get to eat?” 


	35. Chapter 35

“Are you ready darling?” Mycroft called, straightening his scarf as he stood in the mirror. He was not looking forward to this evening, though he did look forward to the next. December 23, he would accompany his future in laws to the ballet in order to see Sarah smile. December 24, he would work before coming home to help finish decorating the interior of their home. December 25, he would wake early so he could spend time with his bride-to-be before they hosted the holiday. He’d opted to be a little festive, his wardrobe remaining the same except his tie, scarf, and pocket square were deep red and green rather than the blue he tended towards. 

“I’m ready,” she smiled softly, still fastening her earrings as she stepped out. Where he’d remained subdued, she wore a red shift dress with a hunter green wool blazer open over it. He always worried she’d catch a cold because, like she was tonight, she always insisted on wearing tights and pumps when they went out in the evening. He knew better than to remind her, kissing her cheek to avoid smearing her cheery red lipstick. 

“You look stunning, as usual,” he murmured, hand resting on her lower back. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” A soft smile played on his lips as she ran her fingers over his collar. “You look so handsome. I love the red and green.”

“I knew you’d be festive. I had to keep up.” 

“Shall we go get my parents?” He led her out, holding her hand as they rode to the little apartment. Sarah had relayed the conversation with her mother, and he’d promised to give her the chance. That said, Mycroft Holmes did not like feeling helpless, and seeing Sarah cry over what her mother had said made him feel helpless and the only thing he could control was how he spoke to her mother. Sarah urged him out to go to the door, surprised when her mother hugged him. He wasn’t good at hugs other than his immediate family, so he awkwardly patted her back. He could see Richard trying not to laugh as he extended a hand to shake, something Mycroft was much more prepared for.

“You look beautiful, Mrs. Garner,” he smiled the less menacing of his practiced smiles, kissing the back of her hand. 

“Thank you, Mycroft. I appreciate you planning this,” Jane said brightly, and Mycroft could feel his mind trying to reroute its expectations. He took her in; she was relaxed and obviously trying to make him feel welcome. He could find no mocking or signifiers she was lying. Perhaps he truly would have to thank John Watson.

“I am happy to. I surmised Sarah has an affinity for Christmas thanks to you.” Sarah put her hand on his back, smiling softly as she watched him. A lifetime of solitude meant that Mycroft was used to open disdain. She hated to consider the fact that he hadn’t spent much time in a positive social setting. He was either someone they felt neutral about or disliked. Her mother had come around to giving him a chance, but Mycroft didn’t know how to receive it. Instead, he trudged on, attempting to take the praise gratefully.

“You would be right. She said we’re going somewhere festive for dinner.”

“We are,” he nodded. That was the part he was not looking forward to. He’d had Anthea find a place near the ballet, and she’d found a place to give him as a suggestion. Anthea was a valuable asset when he tried to plan for Sarah’s family. Where he had no idea what Christmas things to take them to, she knew the compromises. This restaurant had quality food he knew he loved, but for Christmas, the entire place was decorated. It wasn’t as tacky as he’d expect, but there was tinsel and trees and baubles that he knew would make Sarah look around with her widest, happiest eyes. That part would be worth it. She’d also expect pictures in front of the tinseled trees, and Mycroft supposed that would be worth it as well. Then he could frame it and place it on his desk or the shelves of his home office.

He helped to settle each of them in the car, and when watching Richard, he recognized the future. They were dramatically different, but Richard seemed to value one thing above all else: Jane’s happiness. Mycroft enjoyed the ballet and its music, but Richard certainly didn’t. He also seemed as though he could care less about the decor at the restaurant. But when Jane lit up, Richard smiled, hand guiding her so she could ooh and aah over everything around them without worrying about running into anything. Mycroft noticed because he himself could care less about the decor around him, but he used his hand to guide Sarah to the table as she took in the restaurant. His parents, from what he had noticed, shared similar interests and his father’s enthusiasm for a west end show or the symphony was equal to his mother’s. 

“Myc, can we get a picture together after dinner?” she asked softly. He loved knowing that he could say no. He’d done so before, and she was never hurt. Ever since the picture at the pub, however, he didn’t want to fight it any more. 

“Of course, darling,” he smiled, looking down at her fondly. Her annoyance with Mycroft tucked away, Jane was able to notice these moments. He would relax ever so slightly, and instead of that tight fake smile he seemed to give, he'd give a small, but genuine smile to Sarah. It was seeming that rather than simple arrogance, which she still felt he possessed in spades, she also found herself wondering if it wasn’t insecurity that made him difficult. Sarah mentioned that he hadn’t been in relationships in what would be twenty years. 

“You see that they’re smitten now?” Richard asked, nudging his wife’s side. 

“He does smile,” she chuckled. 

“Only at her. And he thinks no one sees that he’s kind of tense if his hand isn’t on her. Always respectable. More like she’s a tether.”

“I think she’s his translator.”

“I think I am,” Sarah laughed, having heard her parents. 

“I don’t need a translator,” Mycroft said, brow furrowed.

“Behavioral.”

“I can read behavior.”

“Not in a relationship,” she teased.

“Point taken,” he said after trying to find an argument. Sarah was, he supposed, who had taken to helping him navigate the newer social settings he was being thrust into, the ones that weren’t related to his family or his work. Her colleagues didn’t know what to do when speaking to him, and her careful pinches of his side told him when he was being unnecessarily rude, whether on purpose or accident. It was often excused by his colleagues and those around them, but not by hers. 

“Now, where is the sommelier? I think we all need some wine.”


	36. Chapter 36

Mycroft woke the next morning to Sarah tucked under his arm and a trail of clothes from the kitchen to their room. He yawned, head aching as the realization he's over imbibed the previous night washed over him. He was pleased to realize he hadn’t gotten truly drunk until they brought out a bottle of wine in her parents’ temporary home. He was pleased with where he’d ended up, curved against Sarah and able to feel her skin against his own. He was also pleased to remember he’d simply been the smiling kind of drunk, sinking happily onto the couch beside Sarah, arm laid around her more relaxed than before as he watched the room. Pieces didn’t come together quickly as they did when he was sober. And when he was drunk now, he found that most of what he did was watch Sarah and smile to himself whenever she did something that confirmed her affection for him. 

What he did not look forward to was detangling himself from his fiance to go into the office, but it was something he would have to do in order to insure he was able to spend the evening helping her to hang garlands and tinsel and decorate the tree they had arranged in their living room. They’d first be going to meet her parents and John and Sherlock in order to walk some little village that had been set up with Father Christmas in the center for little Rosie to meet. The little girl had become one of Mycroft’s weaknesses, and between Sherlock, John, Mycroft and Sarah, and mummy and father, Rosie would be spoiled rotten this Christmas. Where he would normally have missed this in order to get more time alone, he was looking forward to watching as Rosie ran through the Christmas village. He began to slowly pull his arm from beneath her, hoping not to wake her so she could stay serene, her red hair splayed around her. He knew she would need to wake when he left in order to meet her parents for brunch, but she looked simply angelic.

“Mycroft?” she’d whined fighting to keep his arm. 

“I know, darling. I wish I could stay. We both know if I don’t go to work on time, I’ll have to stay until five. And then we won’t get to go with Rosie to meet Santa.”

“Fine,” she whined, pulling him in for a kiss before letting go.

“You are not making it easy to go.”

“That just means you’ll hurry home to me.”

“I always do.” He slipped out of bed, showering and dressing. Once he was dressed, he went downstairs, taking two tablets for his head and taking two more up to Sarah and sitting beside her. He was in a dark pinstripe suit, so she was suddenly acutely aware of the fact these were hard days. Mycroft wore his darkest suits when he was dealing with something at work he didn’t want to tell her about. Usually something that required him going into his official offices. He avoided it at all costs. His plaid suits meant he’d be in the dark office beneath the Diogenes club, his preferred workplace. He’d told her once late at night that he didn’t like that little bits of his personality could come out with his checked suits. If he was to see colleagues outside his innermost circle beneath the club, he wanted it to be in something dark and intimidating. Not something like the black and white check with the little bit of pink. She took note of his tie; It was gray, so this was about the country, not the family. “I recommend taking these before going to have brunch with Jane and Richard.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, taking them gladly. “Go have a good work day so that I get you to myself before meeting everyone.”

“I’ll see you this evening, darling.” She kissed him softly, showering once he left. The morning would be spent with her parents, and soon after, she hoped Mycroft would make it in time to finish decorating. She would survive if she hung the last of the tinsel and ornaments alone. Seeing the Holmeses and her parents together would be fun now that her mother had accepted Mycroft. Her mother was like a new woman now, and as they sat eating their brunch, she was more than willing to discuss dresses and flowers and how beautifully she thought a blue would compliment Mycroft, which Sarah quickly corrected to a pink. Soon enough, she was seated and waiting for Mycroft, mulled wine on the stove. The scent was filling the house, and she heard the door at 3:30 on the dot, exactly when Mycroft had said to expect him. He seemed tired, but not exhausted. He kissed her, letting out a soft sigh. 

“It smells exquisite.” 

“I thought you could use a mug before we go,” she smiled, rubbing his back. “Long day?”

“It’s calmer now. And shant interfere with Christmas.”

“That’s good news,” she grinned. “Why don’t you go change. I’ll have wine waiting.”

“Is what I’m wearing not suitable?” he asked, feigning affront.

“You wear that when you’re in scary government man mode.”

“What?”

“Dark suit dark tie means you want to seem scarier. You weren’t at the Diogenes office today.”

“What else can you tell from my dress?”

“If I told you, you’d be aware and I wouldn’t have my barometer.”

“Fair enough. But I will determine it.”

“Fair enough.”


	37. Chapter 37

“You’ll catch cold,” Mycroft said, lifting a brow as they prepared to leave for the park.

“I always put on tights.”

“I should’ve given you time.”

“You should’ve!” she giggled, settling on the bench at the end of their bed and sliding on her tights and low heels. “Better?”

“I’ll never understand why you refuse to keep your legs warm.”

“I’ll never understand why you’re wearing a three piece suit to the park.” 

“Touche,” he laughed, a real laugh, and handed her her handbag. She grinned, taking his arm as they made their way down the stairs. She covered the now cooled wine, following Mycroft to the car and holding his hand as they rode to the park. There were little food trucks, and something about the Holmes brothers stuck out. Sherlock had Rosie to make him look more at home, but Mycroft was overwhelmed. She squeezed his hand, smiling as he gave hers three squeezes. They made their way to his brother, and she lit up to see Rosie. 

“Aunt Sarah! Uncle Myc!” The little girl was slowly starting to talk, and though all the usual difficulties were there- she truly struggled with her Rs- Rosie always called for whoever appeared. What truly made Sarah’s heart warm, however, was when she reached for Mycroft. The elder Holmes simply stared at her for a moment before taking her and settling her on his hip. She began to babble to him happily. Sometimes, she forgot the fact that Mycroft had done much of the raising of his siblings. She knew it logically, but handing him a baby seemed like it would end in disaster. Instead, Rosie settled happily against him. Her little head settled on his shoulder, thumb planted firmly in her mouth. 

“She’s happy,” Sarah chuckled. Mycroft was sitting at the table, and the contrast of a little girl with wild pigtails and a candy stained mouth sprawled against Mycroft, sitting up perfectly straight in his perfectly clean suit with an elegant hand on her back, was perfect. Mycroft was also completely engrossed in their conversation, responding as though he understood each word. 

“So’s he,” John chuckled. “Who knew a baby would be what it took to get them like this?”

“I do believe a baby is the reason I’m like this. I believe  _ Sarah _ is who made Mycroft so dull. So much sentiment.”

“He’s not dull.”

“He’s also not lonely,” Sherlock said, watching his brother. “Thank you for that. He isn’t as strong as he thinks.” Sarah was taken aback, and she nodded. This was the first time she was with Sherlock that Mycroft wasn’t paying attention, and she supposed that was what had earned her this moment.

“I’ll always take care of him.” 

“I know,” he said, face scrunching at the sentimentality. “There are chips.” 

“Thanks,” she smiled softly, knowing a turn had just been made. She saw her parents, going to them. She hugged each of them, settling at the table the boys had saved. Mycroft had turned, Sarah sitting on the top of the table in front of him and still leaning against her uncle. She was fascinated with the chips, alternating between eating them and trying to put her spit soaked chips in his mouth. Each time, he smoothly took the chip, dropping it on a napkin to his side. 

“You must be Sherlock,” Jane smiled, extending a hand. John had warned her when he extended the invitation that Sherlock was odd. He shook it awkwardly, and Richard opted to save him the attempt. 

“I am.”

“I hear you’re a detective.”

“Consulting detective,” he nodded, picking at the chips. John took over the conversation, and Sarah was happy to simply watch Mycroft and Rosie. She reached for his tie clip, tugging at it, and Mycroft took her hand and kissed her little fingers as he chided her. She’d asked for him, and apparently uncle duties superseded whatever urge he had to remain serious and dignified. Maybe it was just the holiday. She was grateful to see her mother photographing everyone, meaning there would be photos of her with Mycroft, Mycroft with Rosie, John with Sherlock. Most excitingly, it made Sarah happy to see her mom snap a picture of her father beside Mycroft as they stopped to buy a drink. Sherlock took Rosie eagerly when it was time to take her to see father Christmas and Sarah swore Mycroft looked disappointed. Mycroft’s interactions with Rosie hadn’t avoided her mother’s attention, who was now making bets with her husband as to when their daughter would be pregnant. 

“Your parents think we’ll have children,” Mycroft said softly, holding her closer than he tended to. 

“They do. You were pretty cute with Rosie.”

“Perhaps it’s the holiday, but I do believe we’d have a lovely child.” 

“That’s good to hear,” she smiled up at him, opting not to press the subject. 

“I don’t know when. Maybe not for some time, but if it’s sooner, that would be agreeable.” 

“I love you.”

“And I you, darling.” 

She stretched up to kiss him sweetly, giggling when she heard her mom’s camera shutter and a soft curse.


	38. Chapter 38

When Mycroft woke up the following morning, he had a collection of Christmas photos from the night before sent to him by Sarah’s mother. Now that he was giving himself permission to care, he found himself smiling softly as he looked at the photos of himself with Sarah, Rosie, and his brother. The last picture he had with Sherlock was a decidedly unhappy looking family picture they’d been forced into years prior. This one showed his brother holding Rosie with all of the Christmas lights behind him. Mycroft was beside him, hand in his coat pocket and the other at his side. Both were watching Rosie fondly. He decided it would go well in one of those frames like Anthea had that was two hinged together. On one side, he’d put the picture of himself and Sarah in front of a tinseled tree before the ballet and on the other he’d put himself and Sherlock. It was the only proof they ever got along.

She really was changing him.

“Mycroft?” she yawned, stretching while he was lost in thought. Every morning, he would wake before her, but when she did, she didn’t just start talking. She called for him. 

“Sarah?” he smiled, hand on her side. 

“Merry Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas.” 

“Mummy and father will be here soon.”

“An hour,” he sighed. “And that most likely means forty-five minutes.”

“I’ll get dressed and go down to make cinnamon rolls.”

“I’ll get dressed and help.” She chuckled, smiling as he got ready. He had a waistcoat and jacket, but it felt a lot like when he wore the cable knit sweater to see him wear corduroys. Both were in shades of olive, and his tie and pocket square were coordinated. She wore a fitted and festive fair isles sweater tucked into a full green skirt that complimented his attire. Especially since the engagement, she liked when they matched. It alternated who made the conscious decision, but he seemed to enjoy it as well. As she pinned her curls back, the doorbell rang. 

“Good thing I convinced you to prep the dough last night,” she teased as they made their way downstairs. They’d wrapped gifts together the night before, piling them beneath the tree, and it felt homey to see all of the decorations. She lit candles as he let Violet and Siger in. The oven was pre heating and she giggled as Violet wrapped her in a hug.

“Merry Christmas, mummy,” she smiled, rubbing her back.

“Happy Christmas, Sarah. It looks lovely in here.”

“Thank you. Myc and I finished decorating last night.”

“Thank you for sending us the pictures of the boys and Rosie. I like having pictures of them that are less than ten years old.” Sarah was careful in what she sent. There were some pictures, like the one of him smiling as he held Rosie, he wouldn’t want mummy to have because suddenly everyone would see him relaxed and smiling and holding Rosie. He could handle pictures of him with his arm around her or at a table with her, but he didn’t like sharing the options that made him feel more vulnerable. Sarah did have them framed throughout their home and one framed at her desk however.

Siger joined them, and soon John and Sherlock arrived in time with her parents. It stressed Mycroft to go to Christmas normally, and Sarah quickly realized he was an entirely new level of stressed to have everyone in his home. Him helping mummy was one thing, but mummy following him through his own kitchen made him tense. John seemed to notice, coaxing all of the parents to see pictures of Rosie with father Christmas. When he reached a lull in what he was working on, Sarah took his hands. Her hands ran over his forearms, and it suddenly struck her how strange it was to see him roll up his sleeves. She pulled him in, kissing him softly. He relaxed, arms slipping around her waist.

“I didn’t think about the fact our moms would fuss after you in the kitchen. I know that’s stressful for you.” It always slipped her mind that the way changes in his routine in his spaces threw him off because she was so used to thinking of him as the man dealing with worse things than his mother hovering over him every day.

“I know how to julienne a carrot. Why must she insist on telling me how to julienne a carrot?”

“It’s almost like you’re both set in your ways.”

“You take that back,” he said with a disapproving frown.

“Never,” she giggled as he patted her rear, tutting softly. 

“Stubborn.”

“It’s why our relationship works. I didn’t let you break up with me.” He kissed her again, and now that their mothers were distracted, he seemed decidedly more relaxed. When they went to join everyone, their living room was full, something that made Sarah smile. Mycroft sat in one of the last open seats, and Sarah’s brows shot up when he pulled her to sit on the arm of his seat and wrapped an arm around her. She relaxed, arm going around his shoulder. 

“Happy Christmas,” he whispered, looking up at her. She was so content that he could ignore the nosy look his mother was giving, nudging Jane to watch the pair. Sarah was so ecstatic to host Christmas that Mycroft didn’t bother to put his jacket back on or try to keep the space he did in front of others. Sarah was beaming at their decorated sitting room, teeming with family on the couches and in the chairs and a little blonde girl having to be repeatedly pulled away from the presents from her aunt, uncle, and grandparents. It stressed him out to no end to think of all the things that would be out of place, the mess to clean up, the parents staying the night in the guest room. It was a change to his routine, but one that let him see Sarah’s eyes light up. 

“Merry Christmas,” she hummed, leaning down to kiss him. He was almost tempted to be spontaneous. Suggest they go the first day the courts were opened and get married. He’d do that, but then he’d miss the chance to see her in a pretty white dress. There was also some part of him he hated to acknowledge that wanted to go through the engagement party and wedding because then there would be guests there to see her say her vows- see her marry Mycroft Holmes. See how disgustingly in love with him she was and realize that he was disgustingly in love with her.


	39. We got a weddin’ first anyway.

“That went so well,” she smiled, arms around Mycroft as they stood in their room. He smiled softly, hand smoothing over her back.

“It did,” he mused. He was thankful to be tucked away in their room again. Their parents were tucked away in their rooms, and he tugged her to sit in the nook in their room, settling on the love seat in the reading nook she’d created in their room. Everything was homier than it had ever been. Where he once had another desk tucked beside the window, she’d put a loveseat, lamp, and bookshelf. It was nicer than he’d ever expected. It always seemed pointless, but now he enjoyed the lazy Saturday mornings sinking into the corner with Sarah and a book.

They’d left their gifts for each other on the bookcase. There were things like sweaters and books they’d exchanged downstairs. They’d each agreed to save one thing for when they were alone. She sat close to his side, smiling softly as she played with his fingers. He slid his fingers through hers, pressing a kiss on her temple. Setting the little box wrapped in shimmering green paper on his lap, she grinned. He leaned across her, placing the gold box on her lap. She grinned up at him, kissing him. 

“You first,” she hummed. He smiled softly, elegant fingers carefully unwrapping the box. Mycroft Holmes did not handle sentiment well, but there was a set of cufflinks, the same size and shape as the mother of pearl and gold pairs he switched between. These were gold metal, but the gold ring surrounded an emerald green fabric. His thumb brushed over it and he looked up at her with a brow lifted. Mycroft stored any memory he wanted to access later, and sensory memories could be stored in the same way. He could access the scent of the perfume Sarah had worn on different nights, the taste of the wine at their first proper dinner, the feel of the chipped mug in her apartment at any moment and feel it as he had that night. As his fingers brushed the fabric, he was taken back to their first outing. He’d been able to hold her close as they danced, the feel of the same green fabric under his hand.

“I know it wasn’t our best night overall, but it was basically our first date,” she murmured cheeks pink as she spoke quickly. Mycroft was not easy to find a sentimental gift for, but one of her colleagues made jewelry and cufflinks on the side, and the fabric of her dress from that night was layered in the perfect way to remove an inch strip around the bottom. “I wanted to get you something sentimental for the times you can’t come home until I’m asleep and-”

He kissed her, hand cupping her jaw. Thank god his mother couldn’t seem him like this. For once in the last forty-six years, there wasn’t a single word he could think of to describe how he felt. The Diogenes office had it’s few, sacred framed pictures on his desk. He didn’t feel he could risk personal momentos at his actual office. One never knew who could see. But he could wear these with the pinstripes suits as he entered confrontations. Whenever he adjusted his clothes, he could brush his fingers over the fabric and feel as though she was there as the smell of her perfume and sound of her laugh as he twirled her came rushing back momentarily.

“Thank you,” he managed. She smiled, pecking his lips again. 

“I’m just so glad you like them.”

“It’s your turn.” He urged the box into her hands, unwilling to express how nervous this gift made him. When she’d taken him back after Eurus, he’d remembered the charm bracelets he’d seen women in his life wear. His mother, colleagues, their wives, and their daughters. The most sentimental wore either a silver one with beads-That he didn’t like- or- The gold chains with delicate charms, which seemed like something she would like. Previously. he’d spent time rolling his eyes on trips when colleagues would duck into jewelry stores. He felt as though he got it now.

He’d wanted to leave space to add to as they spent time together, so the delicate chain held a ball of yarn, a book, and a sheep. They spent much time reading together, and when they weren’t reading, Sarah could be found by the fire, knitting. She’d made him a scarf that had come to be one of his most worn. The sheep he worried she’d not understand, though he should have known better. Their last morning in the lake district, she’d seen the sheep in the neighboring field who were now close enough she could run to the fence and greet them. She didn’t know he’d taken a picture of her cooing to them once he’d loaded the car.

He’d felt she needed one final charm, and Anthea had been asked what he could include of himself. Anthea had become who he relayed anything sentimental through. He didn’t trust himself to get sentiment right. He’d considered their birthstones, but that afternoon a link to a closed umbrella charm was sent and he’d changed his mind. And now he watched as she tore away the paper, hoping he’d done well. When she opened the box, he beamed with pride as her fingers ran over the charms. 

“Thank you,” she smiled, kissing him softly. “It’s beautiful, Mycroft. I’ll wear it every day.”

“You like it?”

“I love it.”

“I’m so glad,” he said, taking it to fasten it about her wrist. They hadn’t changed yet, and he was pleased to see how well the bracelet worked with what she normally wore. Anthea had reminded him he’d picked this almost entirely alone, and he couldn’t help but be proud, though he hated to admit it. 

“It would be nice to have a little one,” he murmured into her hair, sentimentality getting the better of him again. “I rather like the idea of playing father Christmas. Making cookies. Mummy used to make Christmas sugar cookies with us before Christmas. She stopped after Eurus. But I remember how nice it always was.”

“That would be amazing,” she smiled softly, smoothing a hand over his hair. 

“You’ll be beautiful pregnant, Sarah.”

“We’ll see if ya think that when I’m huge. We got a weddin’ first anyway.”

“We do.”

“I love you, Mycroft. Whoever said you were the iceman was full of shit.”


	40. Chapter 40

“So they’re taking a day on their own?” Mycroft asked, Sarah watching over his shoulder as he tied his tie in the mirror. 

“They are.”

“So it will be just the two of us for the day?”

“I did promise to have breakfast with them, but after that, yes.”

“I’m taking you on a date after you meet with them.”

“Really?” She gave him a crooked smile as she stepped into her shoes. For the most part, they’d been on plenty of dates to dinner and events, but the trip to the lakes had been the only time they’d done something outside of the house on a day they were both free.

“Yes, I’ll get everything together and pick you up after breakfast?”

“That sounds perfect,” she smiled softly, stretching up to press a kiss to his lips. “You do realize you were invited to breakfast, right?”

“I was?” he asked, blinking as he looked at her. “Am I expected to attend?”

“Since you’re being a romantic, no. I’ll cover for you.”

“They asked you to go.”

“You’re my husband to be. You’re always included. I just want you to know that.”

“I will keep that in mind,” he said gently, hands resting on her hips. “So, Jane likes me, now?”

“Yeah. It’s been really good. Seeing you before the ballet and with Rosie did her in.”

“Sentimental,” he chuckled, kissing her. “C’mon darling. You must get to breakfast, so I can take you out and show you off.” 

She giggled, arm around him as she kissed him again before heading downstairs. Jane opened the door as soon as she arrived, smiling broadly. Sarah was quickly pulled into a hug, chuckling. 

“We’re heading to get breakfast. Then your father and I are going to do all the royal family stuff. Palaces and tower and such.”

“Myc would be rolling his eyes. Half of what he does is cleaning up after all of them.”

“Really? Has he met them?”

“Members,” she chuckled. 

“Have you?” 

“No. Myc avoids them outside of work.”

“Well, I haven’t had them tainted, so I can’t wait.”

“You’ll have so much fun, mama. I did all of it when I got here.”

“Bug!” Richard called, wrapping his daughter in a tight hug. “Ready to go eat?”

“Yeah!”

“Where’s Myroft?”

“He had to get some work done so he can enjoy the next few days off.”

“What will you two be doing today?”

“He’s surprising me when he picks me up,” she grinned.

“Good. You two need a date day.”

They started out towards the restaurant, Jane excitedly telling her about their plans for the day. Sarah was content to be with her parents and pleased beyond words that her mother had come around. They talked about plans and flowers and dresses, and soon enough she was ducking into Mycroft’s car and giggling as she slid beside him.

“You’re chipper,” he teased lightly, his arm going around her. 

“I get to have a date with my fiance after talking about wedding plans all morning.”

“How were wedding talks?”

“She can’t wait. Likes the plan to go outside London and make the wedding and reception separate.”

“Perfect. See, darling? It worked out, didn’t it?”

“It did. So, where are you whisking me off to?”

“You mentioned you wanted to go to the Victoria and Albert Museum.”

“Myc!” she squealed, and the thought crossed his mind this was proof he was smitten. The squeal from any other person would have made him wince, but instead he was almost smug because something he’d tucked away was allowing him to make her happy now.

“I’m guessing you approve? We’re picnicking after.”

“If we weren’t already engaged, I’d propose.”

Mycroft led the way in happily, watching her as she wandered into the museum. He’d been many a time, as both a child and an adult. He loved museums, and knew most like the back of his hand. Getting to watch Sarah as he let her lead him around was a treat he never thought he’d have. He knew most of the exhibits already, but watching the way her eyes lit up as she told him how each made her feel. Maybe that was what had him so unable to leave. Where he functioned primarily on logic and reason, she just felt. Her day could easily be turned around by seeing a puppy, but could be ruined just as quickly if she saw someone crying. 

He found himself thinking about getting to watch their child in a museum, leading him through as easily as their mother did. He wondered if they’d have the delightful emotion Sarah possessed and Mycroft feared. He’d need to work on that because given how weak Sherlock made him, there was no doubt sentiment and emotion would drive him even more than they’d come to. He also wanted to ensure their child would know how fiercely Mycroft already loved them. It would be easy for Sarah, he knew; if anything, she’d have to steel herself for the inevitable fights that are part of parenthood.

“Earth to Mycroft,” she laughed, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he said, suddenly aware how openly he was watching her with a smile.

“You were staring.”

“What can I say, darling? You’re the most beautiful sight here.”


	41. Chapter 41

“How was it?” Mycroft smiled, Sarah leaning to press a kiss to his temple. He was settled in his armchair to read, and she was, to be honest, shocked. She’d expected him to be at the office, but then again, he didn’t seem to trust her mother wouldn’t change her mind about him. It was February, and her mother had done nothing but grown increasingly fond of her son-in-law to be. 

When Violet and Mrs. Hudson had accompanied Sarah and a couple of her friends to the dress shop, they’d agreed to video call her mom. Michele and Susan from her cohort had become her closest friends outside of the Holmes’ and their network, and Violet and Mrs. Hudson had been delighted to accompany the trio to look for wedding dresses. Bride and groom had both elected to have only their brothers, Sherlock and Alex, stand beside them, but Michele and Susan were happy to still form a makeshift bridal party. 

“It went surprisingly well,” she hummed, settling in her own seat adjacent to his as she slipped off her shoes and tucked her legs beneath her. “I found the dress.”

“Oh you did? Do I get to see it?”

“That’s bad luck!”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, ridiculous or not, I believe it. You ain’t seeing the dress or me in it until I’m walking to ya in a couple months.”

“It’s so soon,” he smiled, and Sarah reached for his hand.

“Gettin’ cold feet?”

“Never.”

“We’ll all drive out to the manor. Spend a night with the family. Get married. Have a whole day and a half before all the obligatories come for the reception.”

“We truly found a delightful balance, didn’t we?”

“Compromise. Reason we’re so happy.”

“We’re so happy because I am acutely aware how fortunate I am that you put up with me. And I acquiesce to the things I don’t quite understand.”

“And I’m acutely aware how fortunate I am that you opt to preserve our time together and treat me as an equal instead of expecting pretty put together command performances when you decide to come around.”

“Whose wife did you befriend? Because that sounds quite like the way Wilburn treats his wife.”

“We went for drinks after we met at that engagement party for the guy and the lady with black hair.”

“Robert and Julia.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t come home after work. Even if it’s late he goes to a pub or out with friends. Then when she’s mad, he’s furious because he’s the breadwinner while she’s raising their whole brood.”

“I will never do that to you, Sarah.”

“I know, Myc. Just, the more of your colleagues wives I try to be friends with, the less I have in common with them. They want an alliance of women with shitty government husbands. And I’m in my seat like ‘Actually, no, Mycroft is great.’”

“I appreciate the defense, but we mustn’t ruin my reputation.”

“I can start telling them you have a mistress.Maybe a second family later?”

“That’s outside of the realm of reality darling. You had to talk me through everything.”

“A fair point. Maybe you never come home and just trot me out like some chachki?”

“More in line with the persona I’m going for.”

“ _ You’re _ ridiculous,” she laughed, leaning to kiss him. He met her lips happily, smiling despite himself.

“I love you, Sarah. I wouldn’t even befriend you if I didn’t think of you as an equal. And I sure as hell wouldn’t  _ marry  _ you.”

“A romantic,” she teased, stretching. “Wanna cook with me or order in?”

“Order in.”

“Your go to.”

“It’s easier. And then we can read until it arrives.”

“Perfect,” she smiled. “Or maybe we can cuddle?”

“I can be convinced.”

“Oh yeah?” she laughed. “Because I’m thinking curling up in the alcove in our room sounds quite nice.”

“It does.”

“Care to join me?”

“Delighted to.” Mycroft stood, extending his hand and Sarah took it gladly, following him up the stairs. “What shall we order in?”


End file.
